Lead Me To Myself
by TheRavenAndBear
Summary: He woke up in a strange place, surrounded by strange people. They tell him he's a criminal, he's a thief. Having no other option but to believe them, he becomes what they say he is. But a boy with a seemingly familiar face tells him that he's not, and doesn't have to be, what these people made him. Can he find who he is in time to save someone who REALLY matters to him?
1. Chapter 1

**Here goes! For those of you transferring from '_More Than Just the Fun Uncle_', here is a little thank you story. I don't think I would have ever been motivated to write this if I didn't believe that I'd have some faithful readers eager to dive in. It takes a lot to get a good story going, so I appreciate those who support me.**

**Once I receive 5 reviews, or story follows, or story favorites, or a mix of them all, I will continue to publish this story on a daily basis, hopefully, until it is finished.**

**Unlike in my last fic, Frank and Joe are high school age.**

**Anyways, I**** will _finally_ let you get on to reading chapter 1. _Please_ let me know what you think in the reviews!**

_'__Danny'_

_'__Hey, Danny'_

_'Danny!'_

He momentarily opened his eyes, only to close them again as rays of light attacked him.

"There you go, Son." Said a low, rumbling voice from somewhere above him. "Nice and easy. Take your time."

"Ohh..." He groaned. He tried again to open his eyes, taking a slower approach, this time, to let them adjust. He blinked a few times against the brightness. When he finally opened his eyes, he could see a bulk figure of a man, silhouetted against the light, hunched over him.

"Wha-" He began as he tried to sit himself up. His head began to spin and he laid himself back down.

"Slow down there, Son." The large man said. "You must have got hit pretty hard. How long have you been out?"

"Out?" He asked. He gently turned his head to take in his surroundings. Tall metal shelves filled the room, stretching from wall to wall and rising almost to meet the ceiling. Pastel rays of sun shown trough narrow windows lining the the very top of each of the concrete walls. _Must be morning_, he reasoned upon seeing the bluntness of the sunlight.

"Where am I?" He asked after realising that this strange, bulky place held no name within his mind.

A look of concern passed over the man's features. His bushy, red eyebrows furrowed and his deep, brown eyes conveyed thought. The man's bald head wrinkled as his brow creased and his mustache - which matched his eyebrows quite well - rose as he opened his mouth to say, "You're in the warehouse, Boy. Suppose you have been since we all left last night. Don't you remember?"

"No," Was all he said. Shaking his head would hurt too much. "I don't remember."

"Well, now," The man grumbled. "Surely you remember_ something_ of last night."

"No," He said again. "I'm sorry."

"Hmm," The man rubbed a hand over his bald head, his fingers seeming to run themselves through the memory of the bright red locks that used to be there. "And you don't know where you are?"

"No," It seemed like the answer would be the same for every question this guy asked.

"You remember who_ I_ am, of course?" The man said, pausing all of his fidgets to listen more closely as the question passed his lips.

"I'm afraid I don't." He said, honestly. The question had kind of startled him. _Should_ he know this man? Obviously he'd taken quite a blow to the head; it wasn't terribly surprising that he should forget the the moments leading up to the trauma, including where he was when it occurred. But to forget actual _people_.

Then it dawned on him: _Do I even know who _I _am?_

He panicked a moment, but regained himself quickly. Maybe it was only temporary. Maybe his memory would return in a minute or two. Maybe?

The man seemed troubled as well. "You don't know who I am." He was saying. "Do you know who_ you_ are?"

He bit his lip as he tried to summon up memories of his life, his past, his family, _anything_, but it was hopeless. He just couldn't remember. "I- I don't know. I don't know who I am!"

"Settle down, Son." The man tried to soothe, but his voice was not made for comfort. "We'll figure this out."

"Maybe we should take him to the hospital." Said a new man who came peering over the large man's shoulder. This new man had jet black hair. He looked quite scrawny, had a long pointed nose and, even though he was bent over, it was obvious that he stood over six feet tall at full height.

"Don't be a fool, Jack." The first man said. "No holes, remember? No risks."

"He doesn't remember who he _i__s_, Luther." The other man - Jack - countered.

"We'll help him." Luther was saying. "We could still use his help. We just need him to remember."

"Wait till Denis hears about this-" Jack began to go into a long rant about this guy, Denis, and what he might say, but Luther ignored him.

"Sorry, Kid." Luther said. "Name's Luther McKenzie. You and I are... co-workers along with Jack back there."

He gave no response. What could he say? He didn't even know his own name. Luther seemed to realize this.

"Oh, that's right." The big man chuckled, his laugh bearing evidence of a life lived by the cigarette. "You're Daniel Beckham, but we all call you Danny. Afraid I don't know too much else about you, though. Foster kid, I suppose. Turned eighteen a few months ago and decided to leave your foster parents. I met you when you first picked up job here. Seems you started out up at the office, but got yourself demoted when you tried to con the company out of money."

"Con the company?" That didn't seem right. "What company?"

"Rutledge Banking Co." Luther said. "This is one of their warehouses - Warehouse C; one of the biggest."

Luther assisted Danny into a sitting position. The boy took another look around. The warehouse looked considerably smaller now that he was sitting up. The shelves did stretch the length of the building, but the building was not large and the shelves were not full. _Must not want to risk losing too much money in a robbery_, Danny reasoned.

"I was stealing money?" Danny asked. "Why would they let me work here?"

Luther shrugged. "Beats me why they didn't fire you on the spot. Guess they didn't have enough evidence to convict you of robbery so they stuck you here. This place is too fortified for a kid like you to steal money all on your own, anyways. You wouldn't believe the security of this place. And they don't pay enough to make it worth staying here."

"Then why do you - or we - stay here?"

Luther smiled and shook his head. "Not here, Boy. Let's just get you checked out, for now. I'll take you to my place for the night and we can talk a little more there."

Danny nodded. He hated having to rely on Luther like this. The man was virtually a stranger, but right now, he was the only person that the boy knew. He'd just have to take his word for it. What other choice did he have?

"Where is everybody?" Danny asked once Luther had helped him stand up and they were making their way toward the exit. The building seemed almost empty.

"Waiting for their shift to come." Luther said. "Only a few men work the warehouses at a time. Not too many are needed to make it run. This shift was supposed to be mine, Jack's and two other mens'. Yours was last night."

"And you were working last night?" Danny recalled that the man had made a brief comment about being at the warehouse the night before.

"Had the morning shift and came back to fill in for Charlie. Charlie's a buddy of ours." Luther explained.

"Oh." Was all Danny could say. A buddy of ours. It seemed like his life would be like this for a while, if not forever. Would he be constantly told of being somewhere or knowing someone yet never actually having the memory to go with it? It was frustrating to think that he might have to live his life this way. He couldn't do it! He'd just _have_ to get his memory back, somehow.

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

"I don't like this. I don't like this at all." Fenton Hardy said as he hung up the phone in his study. He sat back in his chair and faced the boy who stood across the room from him, waiting impatiently for his father to speak.

"What is it, Dad?" Asked blond haired, blue eyed, seventeen year old Joe Hardy.

"Frank's not at the warehouse." The detective said. "The gate guard has it written down that he checked out at 7:43 this morning."

"That was_ hours_ ago!" Joe cried. "And he never came home last night. What was he doing at the warehouse all night long?"

"I don't know, Son." Fenton said, raking his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. "He should be here. He would have at least called or left a message. Something is seriously wrong."

"What do we do?" Joe asked. Fenton met his youngest son's worried, blue eyes. They were so different from his brother's dark eyes, but right now they held the same concern that was often clear in Frank's gaze.

"I'm going to try finding some of the gang's hideouts. If they've found him out, they could be holding him hostage somewhere."

"What about me? I want to help!" Of course Joe would want to help. There was no way he could just sit on the sidelines and watch. Fenton knew from experience that it was often safer for him to let his impetuous, determined boy help than it was to leave him out of it. Joe would find a way to get involved if he wasn't given some sort of job.

"I'll need you to set up surveillance outside of Warehouse C. Keep an eye on activities around there. Be_ careful_." There was no way he could stress that word enough. It seemed that no matter how many times he said it, it somehow it never reached Joe's ears.

"Sure thing, Dad!" Joe turned and raced out of the room. Fenton could hear his footsteps rushing down the stairs. The boy would surely waste no time getting out the door and to the warehouse.

"Be careful!" Fenton called after his son. Surveillance seemed like a simple enough job, but the detective couldn't help but feel worried. If it was anything Joe was skilled at, it was getting himself into any kind of trouble that could be even remotely possible. And plenty of trouble was possible here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Obviously, Joe is a favorite of mine so he will surely find a way into this, but Frank will have considerably more involvement than he did in my last fic. This is a brother fic, after all.**

Danny sat at the table and picked at his food. He wasn't hungry right now. Luther had spent the whole day telling him stories and facts, trying anything to get the boy to remember, but nothing seemed to work. Danny was still just as lost as he had been when he awoke from that fated slumber.

Everything just felt so hopeless. It would have been better to be lost but still have his memory, or to be around family and friends and not have his memory; maybe then he would have a chance at grasping some portion of himself. But he had no identity, and he had no family. All he had to guide him in his path to himself was this middle-aged, red haired man who spent his spare time smoking a cigarette or petting one of his three cats.

"What's on your mind, Boy?" Came Luther's gruff voice. Danny looked up from his food and met the large man's intense gaze. Never did Luther fail to make him uncomfortable in one way or another, and it wasn't just because he had no memory of the man. Luther was too much business, too many facts, not enough genuine care. All Danny really wanted was for someone to sit down next to him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, even if it wasn't the truth. Was that too much to ask?

"Why are you doing this for me?" Danny finally asked. "Why are you opening your home up to me and feeding me? Why not just send me to the hospital and have nothing to do with me? You clearly have no obligation. So what do you have to gain?"

Luther didn't strike him as the kind of man that would so willingly offer his home out of the kindness of his heart. There must be some other motive behind all of this supposed 'kindness'.

"The hospital was never an option, Kid." Luther said after a long moment of contemplation. "Things may have turned out right, but not without some suspicion. We don't know how you came to be knocked out in that warehouse. The last thing we need is cops becoming involved. No, it's better if nobody knows about this little incident."

"Don't we _want_ the police involved? For all we know, I was attacked and left for dead."

Luther sighed and ran his hands over his face. "This isn't easy to explain; especially not to a boy and especially not to a boy who has amnesia."

"You can't just leave me in the dark!" Danny countered. "Unless you plan on caring for me yourself and you don't really strike me as that type of person."

"No," Luther shook his head. "You're right. Just make sure you listen up so I don't have to tell you again."

Danny nodded and sealed his lips.

"It's like this, Son," Luther clasped his hands together and dropped them to the cheap, fake wood table. "You got yourself involved in something shady. We knew from the moment that you started working in the warehouse that you'd fit right in with the rest of us; you were young, immature, and eager for money. You seemed like just what we needed after Peters... left our employment.

"I was able to arrange for you to meet Denis, the boss. He took an instant liking to you, much like I did. You started working for us just two weeks into your job at the warehouses. You kept quiet and did what you were told. We couldn't ask much more of you."

Danny couldn't find the words to speak. He was a criminal? Impossible! Surely if that were the case he would have some sort of inclination toward crime, but he didn't. He felt quite opposed to it, actually. How could it be?

"Once you feel up to it, Denis will be expecting you to return to your normal duties." Luther said.

"What if... I _never_ feel up to it?" Danny dared to ask.

The big man furrowed his brow, his fiery eyebrows drawing together. "You mean what if you want out?"

Danny nodded, timidly.

"Well," Luther said, matter-of-factly. "I suppose you would have to leave our employment, like Peters did. That would be a shame, though." The look in Luther's eyes was enough to convey his meaning.

Danny gulped. "You mean-" He couldn't finish the question, but Luther nodded, grimly.

"I suggest you think long and hard before making a decision like that."

"Yes, Sir." Danny nodded. "I can return to work tomorrow if I take an aspirin before bed and one after I wake up."

"There's a good boy." Luther smiled and rose from his chair. He picked up his plate and crossed the room toward the sink, stopping briefly next to Danny's chair. He patted the boy on the back. "Least you could do is wash the dishes before going to bed."

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

After washing the dishes, Danny went into the small house's sole bathroom. It was directly across the hall from the room he'd be calling his own, for the time being.

Upon entering the the bathroom, Danny shut the door and placed his hands on either side of the sink. He stared into the mirror and looked into the eyes of the young man staring back. Dark, kind eyes, brown hair, strong jaw and a handsome face. He looked like one of those boys who would have the whole world going for him. But it seemed as though the truth was quite the opposite.

It was truly startling. How was it possible to not know this boy or anything about him? Danny had been given a past and a life, he'd been told who he was, yet he couldn't be that person. It didn't feel right. There_ had_ to be something missing - something that would help him find himself.

"Who are you?" Danny asked the boy in the mirror. Of course the reflection would only ask the same question back - it was, after all, only a reflection; it could give him no answers, it could only remind him of all that he did not know. So Danny was left to answer his own question. Only he couldn't. He didn't know. Was there anybody who_ did_ know, or would he be left forever with only a face, a name and a life that he could only pretend to know?

"Who are we?"

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

Joe yawned and shook his head to try and clear the thought of sleep from his mind. He stayed out late the night before, waiting eagerly for any sign of his brother. A few men came and left Warehouse C every few hours, but nothing of real interest could be detected. The only thing Joe could note was that Frank had not shown up for the evening shift that he was assigned to. That fact only made for more worry and Joe made it a goal to come back early in the morning to continue his surveillance.

Four hours - that's all the sleep the young detective had given himself before he awoke and raced to get out the door. It was another hour drive to the warehouse and he wasn't about to waste any time.

Joe wasn't normally a coffee drinker, but he figured that he could use the caffeine. Before he left the house, he fixed up several cups of hot, caffeinated beverages to prepare for the day ahead. He'd finished two cups of coffee and a now cold cappuccino by the time anything of interest actually happened.

The blond boy sat up in the seat of the Hardy van and grabbed his binoculars. Placing the binoculars to his eyes, he took in the scene before him. It was Frank! He looked perfectly healthy and uninjured. Another man was with him. Joe recognized the second man as Luther McKenzie, one of the Hardys suspects in the elaborate plot to steal money from the Rutledge Bank Co.

Frank and McKenzie strode calmly from their parked car up to the gates where an armed guard inquired after them. They signed a book which Joe assumed to be a log book to mark their hours and keep track of when they come and go. Then, like it was a normal day at work, Frank and McKenzie walked through the gates and to the warehouse where Joe lost sight of them.

Pulling out his cellphone, Joe placed a call to his father. "Dad!" He said excitedly when he heard the call pick up. "I got something you're not going to believe!"

"Hold on a second, Joe, let me get to my study." Joe waited patiently. He knew his father would probably be avoiding attention from the women of the household.

It was no little known fact that that the Hardy men tried their very best to conceal the dangers of their job from Laura, Fenton's wife and Frank and Joe's mother, and Gertrude Hardy, Fenton's sister who spent much of her time paying long visits to her various family members. The boys' aunt Gertrude was staying with them for a few weeks until she arranged to stay with some other members of Hardy family.

"Okay, Son," Fenton's voice rang after a few moments. "What is it that you found?"

"I found Frank!" Joe exclaimed.

There was a moment's silence at the other end of the phone, followed soon by, "What? You say you found Frank?"

"Yeah, Dad," Joe began. "He came in for the morning shift with that guy, Luther McKenzie. He looked fine. I couldn't see any injuries that would suggest that he'd been mistreated."

"That's a very queer discovery." The boy's father said. "If he's fine, then why didn't he contact us?"

"Maybe he couldn't." Joe reasoned. "Maybe he's been discovered and they won't let him contact us."

"I don't think so." Fenton was silent for a few moments before he picked up his speech again. "If he were caught, the last thing they would do is bring him to where we could so easily find him. Something else must be up."

"Do you want me gain entrance and talk to him?" Joe asked.

"No. I trust your brother." The seasoned detective's voice replied. "He must have some reason for what he's doing. I don't want to risk blowing his cover and I certainly don't want to risk_ you_."

"Okay." Joe said with an air of disappointment. He was anxious to know why Frank had so suddenly dropped contact while on such an important undercover assignment. "Do you want me to come home then?"

"Not yet. Stay and watch for a while longer. If he really is in trouble then he'll have to find a way to reach you."

"Okay, Dad, but I think I'll phone up Chet to come help me out. I'm not sure if I'll last another hour without proper sleep."

"I wish you would." Fenton said. "It would do you some good to have some backup."

"Alright, Dad! See you tonight!" Joe said.

"You'd better." Was his father's reply, but Joe could hear the smile in his voice. "Be careful, Son."

"I will be!" Joe assured more out of habit than anything. He then hung up the phone and put a call through to his and Frank's chum, Chet Morton.


	3. Chapter 3

**Just cause I'm publishing every day doesn't mean you can just neglect writing reviews. What do you guys think?**

"Considering you don't remember anything, you certainly did a fine job today." Luther said as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Just did like I was told." Danny admitted. "Don't think I would have been so cool about it if you weren't there to show me the ropes."

Luther nodded. "Once Denis heard about our situation, he was able to convince Jack to trade shifts with you."

"Oh," Was all Danny could say. He hadn't really noticed Jack's absence until Luther mentioned it. He supposed he just assumed it to have a logical reason. Would his old self have been worried if the man actually went missing? Danny guessed not. Jack didn't seem to like him and the feeling was admittedly mutual.

"Where are we going?" Danny asked after he noticed Luther take a different turn than he had taken the day before.

"We're going to see Denis and the rest of the guys." The big man said. "We meet most nights at Charlie's place on the outskirts of town. Denis gave us permission to remain absent last night, because of your incident. Got a message from him this morning. He wants to see how you're doing."

Danny nodded. He couldn't help feeling a little nervous. Should he feel like this? He belonged here, right? He'd done this before; granted he didn't remember doing it, but the idea shouldn't be quite so alien if it had been apart of his life. Should it?

Fifteen minutes later they pulled into the driveway of a large house in a nice, contemporary subdivision.

"Nice place." Danny commented as Luther threw the car into park.

"Sure is." The large man nodded as he opened his door and stepped out. Danny followed his lead. "Charlie's been in this way longer than any of the rest of us warehouse guys. He's received six payments already."

Payments? Danny realized that he didn't know exactly_ what_ sort of illegal activities they were up to, but he refrained from asking too bold of questions. Whenever he'd tried to before, Luther would change the subject or say that he'd get the details later. Perhaps tonight was the night for answers.

"How many payments have_ you_ received?" Danny asked as they neared the door.

Luther chuckled. "None yet, Kid. If I _had_, do you think I'd be living in that ramshackle old shed?"

Danny just shrugged as Luther knocked on the door.

"Passwoid?" Came a voice thickly laced with New York accent.

"Come _on_, Charlie." Luther complained. "It's Lu."

"Yeah, yeah." The voice said. "Jus' gimme the passwoid."

"Fine." Luther rolled his eyes. "Anguis."

The door opened and they were ushered inside. Danny took in the grand entryway. Everything was so_ big_. Why couldn't he have ended up with Charlie instead of Luther?

"How you doin', Lu?" Said the man who had opened the door. He had looks to match his voice. His hair was dark - either dark brown or black - and slicked back, his eyes were green, and an unlighted cigarette hung loosely from his lips. If it weren't for his acne scarred face, he may have looked young.

"Could be better." Luther admitted.

The man nodded and turned to Danny. "Ah, Little Danny." He said, sticking out a hand to shake that of the boy's. "Good to have you back ."

Danny shook the offered hand, but could say little more than, "Thanks."

"You'll have to excuse the kid." Luther explained. "He took a bad bump on the head last night. Can't seem to remember much of anything anymore." The big man turned to Danny. "Danny, this is Charlie. He's welcoming you into his home. What do you say?"

Danny wanted make a retort in opposition to being treated like a child, but decided against it. He supposed that, right now, he kind of was Luther's child.

"Thank you, Sir." Danny smiled politely. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance... _again_. This is a very nice place you've got here, Sir."

"'ey, what's with all this '_sir_' business?" Charlie grinned. "My dad is 'sir'. You can just call me Cha'lie."

Danny smiled again. He was kind of getting to like this Charlie guy. "Sure thing, Charlie."

Charlie chuckled. He gestured to Danny and glanced over at Luther. "I think I'm sta'ting to like this kid even more than the old one. He's got manners and they sure didn't come from you, Lu."

"Alright, Charlie." Luther said. "I think you've demonstrated your sense of humor plenty for the night. Tell me, is Denis here?"

"Yeah, sure," Charlie nodded. "He's in the dinin' room with rest of the gang."

Charlie set off in a walk through the house. Luther and Danny followed, the latter of whom was so taken in by his surroundings that he scarcely payed attention to where they were going.

"McKenzie," A strong voice interrupted Danny's thoughts. His gaze was pulled down to the dining room table at which sat four men. The light, graying haired man at the head of the table spoke again. "You were the last we were waiting on."

"Sorry, Denis," Luther apologized as he sat down at the table. Danny sat beside him, glancing nervously at the other faces. "We got out of work a couple minutes late."

"No worries," Denis said. "Now we may address the issue that has come to my attention."

Danny felt suddenly small as all eyes in the room shifted to him. He wanted to melt away into the tile below his feet.

"Is it true, Beckham, that you have no recollection of your life?" Denis asked.

Danny nodded before clearing his throat to speak. "Yes, Sir. I awoke just yesterday morning in the warehouse with no memories at all."

Denis addressed the rest of the room. "Does anybody know how young Beckham came to be lying on the warehouse floor?"

Silence was the answer received.

"No? If any of you are withholding information from me, I can guarantee consequences."

Danny examined the faces of those present to try and find a falter or trace of fear or guilt. The man on Denis' immediate right was unremarkable. He struck Danny as the type of man that would be thought of when someone mentions 'the average man'.

Danny noticed Jack at the table, sitting across from him and Luther. He gave no hint that he had been involved at all in the incident, even though he had been one of the men to find Danny.

Last of all was a small, sour faced man that looked as though he had just been sucking on a lemon. If this had been a movie or tv show, Danny would have chosen him as the guilty party. But it wasn't television and the dark haired boy had no way of knowing if that man was making a face or if he just always looked like that.

"It seems, Luther, that we have a decision to make." Denis said. "You've spent the most time with Beckham. How do you feel he has performed after this unfortunate incident? Do we need to... remove him from our employment?"

Danny's stomach tightened and he tensed up. Surely Luther wouldn't betray him like that? Of course, the man was rough around the edges and seemed as though he had a heart big enough only for his cats, but Luther wouldn't do that to him!

Danny breathed a sigh of relief as the big man spoke. "Oh no, Denis. The kid has performed remarkably well, considering the circumstances. He will continue to pull his weight. I assure you that he will not become a liability."

"That's good to hear. Beckham will remain in your care until you believe he is capable of sustaining himself otherwise."

Luther gave a silent nod. Danny could see that the man was less than happy about the situation, but he accepted his duty, nonetheless.

"Now, onto other matters." Denis said. He turned to the plain man beside him. "Jennings, tell us of the progress? How close are we to another payment?"

The plain man - Jennings - went on to say that they may only be a few days to a week away from this 'payment', whatever it was. Danny assumed that Jennings must work for the office part of the bank company, since he had so much numbers information. Most of the things said in the conversation were said in an almost alien language. Danny didn't understand half of what was going on, but he remained respectfully silent until the debate was over almost two hours later.

One topic of interest had met Danny's ears toward the end of the long talk.

"I don' mean to scare anybody." Charlie said after a break in the conversation. "But after my shift last night, I noticed a van pa'ked away from the rest of the cars. It looked to have somebody inside. I decided to go back this mornin' to see if it was still there and it was."

"Why should that scare us?" Jack asked. "There weren't feds in it, were there?"

Charlie shrugged. "Just some kid so far as I could tell. But he seemed mighty interested in watchin' that warehouse. Never took his eyes away from it as long as I was there. Still sat in his van when I drove away a few minutes later."

"Hmmm," Denis stroked his goatee in contemplation. "Sounds suspicious to me. Head out tomorrow and check if he's still around. If he is, take care of him."

Charlie nodded. He gave a grin that sent shivers down Danny's spine. "No loose ends."


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Joe and Chet sat in the Hardys van, watching every move made anywhere near the warehouse. They had arrived before the sun had that morning and kept careful watch ever since. Early on they had seen Frank and McKenzie once again enter the warehouse grounds, but that had been hours ago and things were getting dull.

"I always hated surveillance work." Chet grumbled. "There's nothing to do. You can't even leave to get a decent meal."

Joe rolled his eyes and smiled. "Is that why you decided to bring your whole refrigerator? If you had a skillet, you'd be able to prepare the two of us a top notch, gourmet meal."

"Stop it," Chet whined. "You're making me hungry."

"You're_ always_ hungry." Joe laughed. "Nothing I say will change anything."

"No," The chubby boy then gave a sly grin. "But it does give me a good excuse to open the potato chips."

Chet reached into the back seat and pulled out a bag of potato chips. He opened them and pulled out a handful, shoving them into his mouth. Joe reached over to try a bite, but Chet nearly bit his hand off.

"What do you think you're doing?" Chet demanded. "These are_ my_ chips!"

"Sorry," Joe said, sarcastically. "Just wanted a quick bite."

"You've got your own!" Chet countered. He never was quite as defensive as he was when it came to food.

"Don't eat too much." Joe warned his friend. "The last thing I need is you falling asleep and leaving me to watch this place on my own. You're here to help me. We both know that if you fall asleep, it will take an earthquake to wake you up again."

"Come _on_, Joe. Do you even know me? I won't leave you hanging!"

Forty minutes later and a bag of potato chips down, had Chet moaning in the passenger seat. "I think I ate too much."

"I've been telling you that for years, but I never thought I'd hear those words leave _your_ lips." Joe teased. He earned himself a glare from his chum.

"I'm serious, Joe. I feel sick."

"_Fine_," Joe said. "Go lay down in the back seat for a bit. And I'd better not hear one more complaint from you after you wake up."

Chet smiled as he began climbing into the back. "Thanks pal, you're the best!"

Just seconds later, Chet could be heard snoring soundly in the back seat of the van.

"This may have been a mistake." Joe said to himself as he turned back to watch the warehouse.

Another thirty minutes of watching had Joe shaking himself to stay awake. He'd have to rouse Chet soon to take over watch. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take without going crazy.

_Pop!_

Joe sat up straight in his seat. What was that? It had sounded like it came from just outside the van!

The blond boy pulled on his shoes and opened his door, stepping out of the van and shutting the door behind him. A hissing noise caught Joe's attention and he made his way to the back, driver-side tire. He bent down and thumbed at what looked to be a hole in the side of the tire.

_Suspicious, _He thought

Joe started to get to his feet again when he felt himself tackled down by a heavy weight. Before he knew what had happened, Joe was pinned to the ground, staring up at the black haired man who straddled his waist. The man had a strip of duct tape in his hands which he proceeded to secure over Joe's mouth.

Snapping out of his stunned daze, Joe grabbed at the man's wrists and managed to build enough momentum to throw off his attacker. Joe scrambled to get to his feet, not bothering to try to remove the tape gag just yet for fear of losing time.

The black haired man advanced on the boy and Joe shot out a fist that caught his attacker in the face and sent him into the dirt. Turning to run the other way, the blond stumbled before he even got going, his foot having caught a small root. That stumble would cost him.

Joe felt a hand clasp tight around his ankle and pull. He fell to the ground on his stomach and had no time to react before his attacker was upon him, pinning him to his spot. Any attempts to escape, this time, were quickly punished by a quick jab to the back of his ribs.

The boy began to panic as he heard a roll of duct tape being unrolled. His left wrist was wrapped several times, followed by his right; then both his wrists were wrapped together, providing for a thorough binding.

"There's a good boy." Joe's attacker said in a thick New York accent as he turned his captive face-up and forced him to lean against the side of the van. "Don't you dare try anythin' funny, you got that?" Joe just glared back in response as the black haired man began to wrap his ankles with the tape.

Perhaps if Joe had been able to wake Chet in time, they would have been able to take this guy together, but, right now, the young Hardy's best chance at rescue lay with his chum informing his dad about the situation he would wake up to. Joe would just have to pray that this man did not decide to investigate the van further.

"Get yourself into trouble when you stick your nose where it doesn't belong. You and I are goin' to go for a little ride, Mr.-" The man's brow wrinkled. He checked Joe's pockets until he found a brown, leather wallet and opened it, raising his eyebrows at the surprise of its contents. "Hardy, eh? This is, indeed, interestin'. Guess this changes the plans a little. Just wait till the guys see_ you_."

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

Chet yawned and sat himself up in the back seat of the Hardy van. He rubbed his eyes clear of sleep and took a moment to glance at his watch.

"Yipe!" He exclaimed. Had he really been sleeping for two_ hours_? "Why didn't you wake me, Joe? We could have switched places!"

When he received no reply from his friend, Chet got up the rest of the way and dragged himself into the passenger seat. Where was Joe? He wasn't in the driver's seat, that's for sure.

"Joe?" Chet asked again, glancing back through the rest of the van. "Come on, Joe, where are you?"

Still he received no answer. But how could he just_ disappear_?

Chet pulled on his socks and shoes and and stepped out of the van. "Joe?"

He walked around the outside of the vehicle, but there was still no Joe. That's when Chet glanced down at the rear tire and gave a low gasp. The tire was completely flat!

Chet bent down to inspect the tire. No wonder it was flat, there was a hole cut into it! This was bad. This was_ really_ bad. Joe was missing and a hole had been cut into their tire. Surely this couldn't just be a coincidence!

Pulling out his cellphone, Chet placed a call Fenton Hardy.

"Chet?" Came the deep, wise sounding voice over the phone.

"Mr. Hardy!" Chet cried. "Something's happened! I don't know what to do! I'm so sorry, I should never have fallen asleep!"

"Slow down, Son." Mr. Hardy said softly, but sternly. "Tell me what's going on."

Chet took a deep breath. "I got a stomach ache and Joe told me to take a nap in the back seat. Well, two hours later, I wake up and Joe's disappeared without a trace and there's a hole cut into the van's tire!"

"Joe's_ gone_?" Mr. Hardy asked, concern evident in his voice.

"As if he were never here! Do you think he was taken?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense." Mr. Hardy admitted. "Hang tight, I'll be there within the hour."

**Those of you who are here to see some Frank whump, keep on reading for a while. Joe is clearly my favorite to pick on, but I have plenty in store for both brothers.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Back to Charlie's?" Danny asked as he slid into the passenger seat of Luther's car. He wasn't exactly looking forward to sitting through another of those long talks.

"Don't sound so disappointed." Luther gave a little smirk as he started the car up. "Word is Charlie's got a little surprise waiting for us."

"Huh," Danny said. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about a surprise from Charlie. Surprises were supposed to be good, right? But these were criminals; their idea of surprises might be a bit different from most people's. "Any clue what it is?"

Luther shook his head. "Not a one. Guess we'll find out what it is once we get there."

When they arrived at Charlie's and walked up to the door, Luther gestured for Danny to ring the doorbell. The boy obeyed and, like the night before, Charlie's voice spoke from the other side.

"Passwoid."

Danny glanced over at Luther who just nodded for him to go on. He took a breath and cleared his throat to speak.

"Anguis." He said, and the door opened to admit them entrance.

"Welcome," Charlie said once Danny and Luther were inside and he had shut the door. "Will you be surprised to see what I've got for you, tonight!"

"I suppose it's too much to hope that you would just tell us now?" Luther guessed.

"Sorry, boys," Charlie shook his head. "Not till the big guy shows up."

"It wouldn't have anything to do with that shiner, would it?" Luther asked. Danny, too, had noticed that their host was now sporting a black eye, but he wasn't about to go inquiring into things, especially when Luther was just as curious as he was.

"It might, Lu," Charlie said, wrapping an arm around Luther's broad shoulders as he led the man into the living room. Danny followed a ways behind them. "But that's all I can say, for now."

Already in the living room sat Jack and and the sour faced man. Each rested comfortably in a large, cushioned chair.

"Have a seat, boys." Charlie gestured for his newest guests to sit down. Luther took another chair and Danny sat down on the sofa. The moment they made themselves comfortable, the doorbell rang.

"Bet that's the boss." Charlie said as he set off in a brisk walk back to the entryway. Sure enough, he returned a few seconds later, leading Denis into the living room.

"What's all this about a surprise, then?" Jack demanded now that everybody was present.

Denis nodded and turned to Charlie. "Yes. You'd better not be pulling our legs."

"Don' worry," Charlie smirked. "You guys are gonna love this." He gestured for the group to follow. "Downstairs."

Everybody rose from their seats and set off after Charlie. Danny jogged to fall into line behind Luther who, though he never did a good job of making the boy feel comfortable, was, ironically, the only person that Danny really felt comfortable being around.

The group descended the stairs to the basement and followed Charlie to a closed door. The man pulled out a key and inserted it into the lock, twisting it before pushing the door open and walking inside. "Feast your eyes, boys."

As Danny followed the others through the door and laid eyes on the 'surprise', he had to suppress a gasp. On the floor of the small, carpeted room, laying bound and gagged with duct tape, was a boy of about Danny's own age. The boy appeared to be resting, for his eyes were closed, but he didn't look the least bit comfortable.

"This is, _indeed_, a surprise." Denis said as he walked around the room, inspecting the boy on the ground. "I hope you have a good explanation for this, Charles. He's just a boy."

"Ah, ah, ah," Charlie grinned. "Not just _any_ boy. This is the boy who's been watchin' the warehouse the past couple of days. He was there again today, so I decided to take care o' him, like you said."

"I meant _remove_ him, not abduct him!" Denis growled, but Charlie's smile never faded.

"I was goin' to," Charlie pulled the cigarette out of his mouth to speak more clearly. He met Denis' blue eyes intensely with his brown ones. "But then I found out who he is."

The rage flitted from Denis' demeanor as he heard Charlie's words.

"So, are you going to tell us who he is, or what?" Jack asked, impatiently.

"Hold on, Jacky," Charlie said. "I want Denis to ask me."

Denis sighed and rolled his eyes in irritation. "All right, Charles, who is he?"

"Joe Hardy." Charlie said with a hint of pride.

Danny felt a twinge in his heart at the name, but he couldn't explain why he felt it. Did he _know_ that name?

"Hardy?" Asked Luther.

"Yup," Charlie nodded. "He's one of Fenton Hardys boys."

"Fenton Hardy? The detective?" The sour faced man spoke up. "Snooping around Warehouse C? This is bad. Hardy's onto us!"

"Settle down there, John." Charlie said. "Hardy can't touch us now."

"He's right." Denis agreed. "As long as we have his son, he won't risk stepping foot into an investigation on us."

"Where's the other one?" Luther asked. "Where's Hardy's other son? Don't they investigate together? If you found one then the other had to have been around, somewhere."

Charlie shrugged. "Let's ask him." He said before walking over to the boy. He gave a few light kicks to the boy's ribs, startling him from his sleep.

"Mmmm..." The boy's grumble was muffled by the gag. He looked frantically around the room, taking in all the faces around him. When those bright, blue eyes locked on Danny's, he felt himself go weak in the knees. He_ knew_ those eyes. For a moment Danny thought he saw a look of recognition and relief in the boy's eyes, but as soon as the look was there, so it was gone and the boy continued looking about the room.

"Welcome back to the land of the livin', Joey." Charlie reached down and ripped the tape from the boy's lips. "We've got a question for you."

"You're a fool of you think I'll answer." The boy said, defiantly.

"Where's your brother?" Denis asked, taking a step closer to the boy.

"I-" The boy's eyes again sought out Danny's before quickly looking away. It was as if he didn't want these men to know who he had been looking at. "How should I know?"

"You and your brother work cases together, no?" Charlie asked. When the boy failed to answer, Charlie have him a harsh kick to the side, causing him to grunt in pain. "You and your brother work cases together, _no_?"

The boy glared up at Charlie, but nodded.

"Then_ where_ is your brother?" Charlie asked.

"We weren't together." The boy said. "He was occupied somewhere else."

"Doing_ what_?"

The boy tightened his lips and refused to answer, earning himself a few more kicks. It seemed to Danny that he could almost_ feel_ every kick this boy got. Every blow made him wince and bite his lip to keep quiet.

Charlie took a break from beating the boy and asked the question again. "Your brother was occupied doing_ what_?"

The boy lifted his head, but the look on his face was far from defeat. "He was baking cookies with your grandma."

Charlie grinned and shook his head. "You're a funny kid, but wrong answer." He said. He replaced the duct tape gag over their prisoner's mouth and pulled his leg back to give another kick. More blows rained down on the poor boy, but nobody made a move to stop them.

Danny looked at the rest of the faces in the room. Everybody seemed just as bored as he had been last night at the meeting. How could they stand for this? How could they sit back and watch a boy get beaten like it was just everyday life?

Perhaps because it_ was_ everyday life. Would Danny one day be as used to it as they are? Had he already_ been_ used to it before he'd lost his memory? The thought sickened him. It wasn't possible. He_ couldn't_ have been so cold as these men were.

Danny looked back down at the boy, startled to find those blue eyes staring at him again. This time they held a sense of pleading. They begged Danny for help. They begged him to come to the rescue. How could he say no?

"Stop!" Danny shouted before he knew what had happened. All eyes in the room fell upon him and all movement ceased.

"You got a problem, Little Danny?" Charlie asked.

Danny froze for a moment. Why had he done that? _Did_ he have a problem? Of course he had a problem! This was all so_ wrong_! They were_ beating_ a kid - a kid that looked to be almost Danny's own age. But he couldn't say that. They might kill him if they thought that he wanted out of this mess!

"We can't hurt him too bad, yet." Danny started saying the first words that came to mind. "His dad needs some incentive for following our demands, right?"

There was silence for a moment, then Denis spoke up. "The kid's right. We need him in good shape, for the time being. Let's get his picture taken and send it to Hardy. He'll be anxious to see how his son is doing."

Danny looked back down at the boy, who rested his head on the ground and gave him a look of thanks.

Minutes later, the picture had been taken and the group was gathered in the corner of the room, discussing what should be done with the boy.

"Jacky will send the note tomorrow." Charlie was saying. "But the kid can't stay with me. I gotta run to New York tomorrow evenin'. Be gone good a couple o' days. One o' you guys have to take him."

"I live in an apartment complex." Jack said. "Would have a hard time getting him there unseen. Besides, I've got to take the late shift in an hour, thanks to my switch with Danny, here."

"Don't look at me!" John said, his sour face looking even more sour. "I'm married! And I'm suck on the night shift with Jack!"

"How about you, Luther?" Denis asked. "Besides, it's safer with two people to watch him."

Luther nodded, reluctantly. "And it's our day off tomorrow. We'll be able to watch him for the weekend, at least, before we have to head back to work."

"It's settled, then." Charlie said. "You and Danny can take the kid with you tonight."


	6. Chapter 6

Luther parked the car in the garage and hopped out. "Help me move him inside." He ordered casually, as if he needed help bringing in groceries.

Danny followed the big man to the rear of the car and opened the trunk. The boy inside glared back up at him and Luther. "Where are we going to put him?"

"This place may be small, but it does happen to have a basement, unfinished though it may be." Was Luther's reply.

Danny grabbed the boy under the arms while Luther grabbed him by the legs. Together, they hoisted their prisoner out of the trunk and carried him inside. They struggled down the stairs and laid the boy on the cold, concrete ground.

"That'll do, for now" Luther said as he straightened out his back. "We'll lock the door to the basement before turning in so, even if he manages to get out of his bindings, he won't be able to escape."

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

Danny walked into the kitchen the next morning, wearing a pair sweatpants and a t-shirt that were lent to him by Luther and looked quite baggy. The smell of eggs and bacon met his nose and the boy quickly grabbed a plate and began to fill it.

"Morning." Luther grumbled as he sat himself in the chair across from Danny. It was no secret that the man was none too happy about the situation he'd been cast into. First, he got stuck with the kid who got conked on the head and lost his memory, and now he had a second kid tied up in the basement.

"Good morning." Danny replied, politely. Taking in the man's clean and dressed appearance, he assumed that Luther must be planning on going out. "Where are you off to, this morning?"

"The store." Luther said, not bothering to look up from his food. An orange, tabby cat jumped up on the table and began taking bites of the big man's eggs, but he didn't seem to mind. "Got to get you some clothes of your own to wear since this is starting to look like a more permanent situation."

"Want me to come to try stuff on?"

Luther shook his bald head. "You stay and look after the kid in the basement. Take some food down to him once you finish up your breakfast."

Danny nodded and turned back to his meal. Five minutes later, Luther was out the door and Danny was preparing a plate to take downstairs.

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

Joe rubbed his wrists together, hoping to find a weakness in the tape that bound him. He'd been trying all night, but nothing seemed to work. The tape was just too tight.

Deciding to take a little break, Joe relaxed a little and let his mind wander to the events of the previous night. Frank had been_ right_ there. They'd even made eye contact, yet he didn't seem to hold any recognition in his eyes. Joe had just chalked it up to his brother maintaining character, but he couldn't help that feeling that told him otherwise.

Why hadn't Frank come for him? He was certainly in the house, so why didn't he sneak down in the middle of the night to free Joe? This place was far from fortified and Frank seemed to be well trusted. So what was holding him back?

Joe was drawn from his thoughts by the sound of a door opening and closing, followed by footsteps coming down the stairs. The next moment, Frank appeared, carrying what looked to be a plate of food. He bent down beside Joe and used a knife to cut the tape around his wrists.

Joe pushed himself into a seated position and pulled the tape off of his mouth. "Took you long enough." He said as he started trying to remove the bindings from his ankles.

A strong hand clasped Joe's wrist and halted his work. He looked up into his brother's dark eyes and didn't bother to hide the confusion he felt.

"You're not going anywhere." Frank said. He then pushed the plate of food into Joe's hands and handed him a fork. "Just eat."

Joe glanced between the plate and his brother before stopping on his brother. "You know I hate eggs."

Frank furrowed his brow, but shrugged. "Sorry, it's all we've got."

"This place isn't bugged, is it?" Joe asked, trying to find the reason for Frank's queer behavior.

"What's bugged?" Was he only answer he received. This was starting to get ridiculous! What's _bugged_?

Joe set his plate on the ground. "Come on, man. What game are you playing? What's going on?"

"Just eat your food." Frank said, handing the plate back to Joe.

"No!" Joe pushed the plate away. "I want answers, Frank! What have you been up to? Why haven't you come home?"

A look of bewilderment overtook Frank's features and he shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about. My name is Danny."

Now it was Joe's turn to look confused. "You can't be serious." He said a little more quietly. "You think you're Daniel Beckham?"

"How do you know my name?" Frank asked. It was starting to scare Joe that his brother seemed to be genuinely confused about something as simple as what his name was. Had Frank lost his memory? It was certainly looking that way.

"I know it because I came up with it." Joe explained. "It's not real. There_ is_ no Daniel Beckham."

"No." Frank shook his head. "You're lying. You're trying to get into my head!"

"I'm telling you the truth." Joe said. "I know you - the_ real_ you - better than anyone. And you know_ me_."

"No, I don't. I don't know you."

"Frank," Joe said, grasping his brother's full attention. He tried to communicate with Frank the way they had been able to before. They had never used to need words. But Frank gave no indication that he understood. He looked_ scared_ and Frank never looked scared. "Frank, it's Joe. It's your little _brother_."

Frank looked startled, but shook his head, nonetheless. "You're lying to me. Nothing you say is going to get you out of here. If you're not going to eat, then I'll have to tie you back up."

Once more, Frank offered the plate and, once more, Joe pushed it away. "Just listen to me. You've lost your memory, haven't you?"

"If you're my brother, then where were you when I woke up with no memory of who I was or where I came from?" Frank asked, coldly.

Joe felt a twinge of guilt. He_ should_ have been there. He was always supposed to be there when his brother got hurt. But he wasn't this time. He couldn't have been, but this Frank wouldn't understand that.

"Put your hands behind your back." Frank commanded.

Joe obeyed and stared down at the ground as his brother protruded a roll of duct tape and began re-tying his wrists. A minute or two later and Frank finished with the wrists and turned back to Joe.

"Any parting words?" Frank asked as he prepared a new gag. Joe met his brother's eyes. Those eyes stared at him not with love, not with hatred, but with a look of business. It wasn't like he enjoyed doing this, but he felt that it had to be done.

A lot could be seen in those brown orbs - a lot of thought, a lot of feelings. None of the things in those eyes were criminal, but then, none of those things were Frank.

"They can take away your name, they can take away your memories, and they can take away your family, but don't ever let them take away who you are, Frank." Joe said, at last. He could see that his words hit deep. Frank looked startled. He seemed lost in thought for a few long moments, staring off, clearly letting himself ponder. But then he quickly shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and turned back to Joe.

"The name's Danny." Frank said before securing the strip of tape over Joe's mouth. He picked up the full plate of food and turned to leave without saying another word. Seconds later, the basement door opened and shut and Joe was left alone with his thoughts.

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

Fenton thumbed through his files again, wishing, not for he first time, that he had been able to talk things over with Frank and find out about the discoveries his oldest son had made while undercover. But he _hadn't_ gotten the chance, and now he was stuck trying to track down _both_ of his boys.

"Fenton?" Came the sweet, melodic voice of Laura Hardy as she entered the study and stepped up to her husband's desk. "This envelope was on the front porch when Gertrude came home from the market."

Fenton took the envelope and examined it. It was blank all except for the name 'Hardy' written on the front in all caps.

"Did you look inside?" The detective asked his wife, who shook her head in response.

"I thought it might have something to do with the boys." Laura said. "What do you think?"

"I think you're right." Fenton said, pulling a pair of latex gloves out of his desk and putting them on before opening the envelope. He reached his gloved hand inside and pulled out a picture, setting the envelope down to better examine the contents of the photo.

The seasoned detective furrowed his brow. The picture showed Joe, bound and gagged, lying on a carpeted floor. Fenton's youngest son stared defiantly into the camera, demonstrating his resilient behavior which would surely give his captor or captors trouble.

Fenton turned the photo over to find a note scribbled on the back:

'_Cease all investigations related to the warehouse or you will never see your son alive again__! Don't even think about talking with the cops!_'

He dropped the note onto his desk and ran his fingers through his hair, heaving an exasperated sigh.

"What is it?" Laura asked, concern marring her pretty face.

Fenton knew he had no right to hide this from her. She knew that her sons were missing, but neither of them had really known the extent of things until now. The detective held the photo up for his wife to see.

Laura gasped and held a hand to her mouth. "Oh, Fenton!" She cried. "Poor Joe! What are you going to do?"

Fenton gave a helpless shrug, then he wrapped Laura in a tight embrace. "I don't know, Dear." He admitted, truthfully. "But I'm not going to endanger my son's life."

"But you _must_ search for him." Laura said.

The detective stroked her blond hair and nodded. "I will. I'll find both of the boys and return them home, safe and sound. I promise."


	7. Chapter 7

Danny stared at the ceiling of his room, the stipple pattern stretching out before his vision, leading his mind into the seemingly never ending maze that was his thoughts. It had been hours since he spoke with the boy - Joe - and he had scarcely left his room since. Luther had returned with fresh clothes and decided to bring another plate of food to their prisoner, freeing Danny from having to face the boy again.

But what the boy had said still stuck with Danny. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Joe had seemed to know him. He talked as though they had been lifelong friends. He seemed to_ care_. It kind of felt nice to be cared about, but Danny couldn't let his guard down.

_'You know I hate eggs__.'_ The boy had said with a puzzled look. The statement seemed so casual, as if it would have been said at a family dinner when he was offered a dish he did not approve of. The boy seemed so relaxed, considering his situation.

This Joe didn't seem like the type of guy who would try to take advantage of an amnesiac, but people could do cruel things when they get desperate. Could the boy be trusted?

_'I want answers, Frank!... Why haven't you come home?__'_

That name - Frank - had struck Danny somewhere. His heart jumped to attention when his ears heard that name. He must have known it. Everything Joe said had sounded more true and felt more right than this entire life that Danny had gotten to know. Could he be living a lie? Was it true that this boy was his_ brother_ as he had said?

Then where was he? Where was his "brother" when Danny awoke, confused and frightened? Where was he when Danny needed someone to hug him close and tell him that everything was going to be okay? Where was he when Danny needed someone to do what a brother was supposed to do? Where was he when Danny needed to find himself? If Joe had once been his brother then he was too late now! He hadn't come on time to save him.

_'Have you_ really _yourself__?'_ Asked a voice in the back of Danny's mind. It was his own voice, scrutinizing his thoughts and arguing with himself. _'Perhaps he isn't too late, after all.'_

What was he_ saying_? Was he seriously thinking he might join this kid's _side_? Danny couldn't do that, even if he wanted to. Denis would surely have him beaten, or killed, or both!

_'...don't ever let them take away who you are, Frank.'_

Those words, those eyes when those words were said. Danny had never felt quite so close to finding himself as he had been when Joe said those words. Danny looked at him and could see those very eyes flash through his mind like a slideshow running on fast-forward. Each vision that passed through Danny's mind carried a memory of its own, but when he tried to grasp them, they slipped just beyond his reach and faded into oblivion.

Then it was over. Danny was back in that basement, faced with a choice: he could take the risk and free this boy, hoping to be reunited with his memories along the way, or he could obey orders and avoid the consequence of ending up buried in a shallow grave or tossed in the sea as fish food. Danny had made his choice. He wanted badly to believe Joe that this wasn't who he is and that he had a family out there, but Danny was so afraid to die. He was so alone and the thought of facing something so big on his own was more than he could handle.

Danny just hoped that he wouldn't end up regretting his choice.

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

"Kitchen, Dan!" Luther's voice awoke Danny from his slumber. Funny, he couldn't remember falling asleep. "Dinner's ready!"

Danny glanced at his watch as he opened his bedroom door and walked down the hall: 6:23 pm. He must have slept for almost two hours! Hopefully he'd be able to get some sleep tonight. They still had no work tomorrow - it would be Sunday - but Danny would sure want to be well rested for when he finally got back to his job full-time.

Danny entered the small, kitchen/dining room to find a mac and cheese dinner awaiting him. Luther gave no indication that he noticed the boy enter the room and the two remained in virtual silence until halfway through the meal.

"What is it that we do, Luther?" Danny asked. He was getting tired of being left in the dark.

"What do you mean?" The big man asked, not looking up from his food. "We're warehouse workers. You've been to the job."

"That's not what I meant." Danny said with an air of annoyance in his voice. "I mean what do we_ do_? Why are we so secretive? Why do we have a_ kid_ tied up in the_ basement_!"

Luther sighed and dropped his silverware, meeting Danny's dark eyes with his own. "Fine. You want to know? I'll tell you. Just don't you go preaching it to the world, okay?"

Danny nodded. "Okay."

"Well," Luther began. "It's a complicated system and I won't go into too much detail. This is just the basics."

Danny had a hunch that Luther's reason for not going into detail was because he, himself, did not quite understand the details. But the boy knew better than to go calling out the big man on such little things like that.

"We're stealing money from the warehouse." Luther explained, though Danny had already been able to guess as much. "You, me, Jack, Charlie and John all do the manual labor. We work a normal job, most of the time, but once in a while that changes. We take smuggle bits of cash out of the warehouse. Our boys in accounting, Ryan Jennings and Denis, make small changes to the paperwork on the shipments that come in. The changes are so minute - the difference of only a couple hundred dollars or so on some of the smaller shipments - that nobody notices when the money just disappears. We save the money in an account for a few months until we build enough up to split between us all."

Danny felt overwhelmed. He had more questions to ask - how was the theft not discovered? How did they transfer the money? What about serial numbers on bills? Couldn't they be traced? - but Luther was not a man that liked being peppered with questions. He tried to be patient, but it was clear that this was not a topic that Luther wanted to go into too deeply. Danny could only nod his understanding - or at least what little understanding he had.

"Listen," Luther changed the subject before Danny could open his mouth to reply. "Why don't you bring the kid some dinner. Denis wants him to have two meals a day and he didn't eat his breakfast this morning."

Danny had hoped he wouldn't have to see the boy again for a while, but he knew that such hopes were unrealistic. He just nodded and prepared some food and a cup of water to bring into the basement.

Danny reached the door, unlocked it and grabbed the handle, but he froze when a booming crash shook the house. It had sounded like it came from downstairs!

Setting the food on a couch-side table a few feet away, Danny turned, opened the door and ran down the basement steps. His bare feet sent shivers down his spine as he set foot on the cold concrete at the bottom of the stairs. Looking around the small basement area, Danny was startled to see abandoned strips of duct tape in the middle of the floor. Where was the boy?

Danny soon had his answer as he spotted a toppled pile of storage boxes on the floor below an open window at the very top of the wall of the room.

"What's going on down there, Kid?" Luther's gruff voice called from upstairs. The brunette could see the man from where he was standing.

"H-he... he," Danny stuttered.

"Spit it out, Boy!"

"H-he's outside!" Danny cried at last. Luther's eyes widened and he immediately turned disappeared from view.

Secretly, Danny hoped that Joe _would_ escape and get out of here. The boy clearly didn't deserve to be held prisoner like this. Even if he_ was_ lying to Danny, how could he really be blamed? Joe probably had a family that loved him and wanted him back, safe and sound. And Danny couldn't help but wonder if he, himself, had one too.

Danny made it to the top of the steps and ran outside through the front door that Luther had left open in his rush. All was silent for a minute or two, then some movement caught the boy's eye.

Luther came around the side of the house, being sure to keep a firm hold on his captive. He held Joe in a strong grip with one arm coiled like a python around the boy's waist and one hand clamped tightly over the boy's mouth to keep him quiet.

Minutes later, the three were in the basement, Luther binding Joe to a supporting, metal pole that was embedded in the ground and reached the ceiling. The big man was adamant in assuring that his prisoner would not come so close to escaping again. The boy sat on the ground with his wrists secured behind the pole and his ankles bound together. Duct tape wrapped around his waist and over his arms to keep him tied firmly to his place. Luther grunted in satisfaction as he added the finishing touch: one strip of tape over the Joe's mouth to silence his yelling and shouting of rude remarks.

"And no supper tonight." The big man growled. "Maybe that will teach you a thing or two."

Danny seriously doubted so, but he still couldn't help shooting a pitiful glance at the boy as he turned to follow Luther up the stairs. Tonight had not been it, but Danny hoped that the time would come when Joe would be able to make his getaway. If somebody had a family to get back to, then nobody had any right to keep that from them.

At least Joe knew that he had that right. He was willing to risk about anything to get back his loved ones. Danny almost wish that - and wondered if - he numbered among those loved ones.

**I really have no clue how banks work; this was just one of the few plotlines that would fit my story idea well** **enough.**

**A****nother thing I'd like to mention is that I finally decided to add my age to my profile page. Check it out of you wish!**


	8. Chapter 8

"I didn't want to say anything about it until I knew for sure."

Danny heard a voice - not Luther's - speaking from the kitchen as he approached. He hadn't realized that they were to have guests today. It was a good thing that he had taken the time to comb his hair and dress himself in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before exiting his room, this morning.

The boy entered the kitchen and dining area and the room fell into silence. Sitting at the table, apparently having just been engrossed in conversation, were Luther and the man Danny had come to know as Jack. Both men stared at the newcomer and everybody seemed to be waiting for somebody else to speak.

"Danny," Luther greeted at last. "Good to see that the new clothes fit well."

The boy just nodded in reply, then his eyes fell on Jack. "I didn't know we were going to be having company, this morning."

"Nice to see you, Dan." Jack said, but the tone of his voice contradicted his seemingly polite words. "I just decided to stop by."

"Yeah," Luther chimed in. "You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to disturb you." The big man gestured to a pot on the stove. "Why don't you take a couple of bowls down and eat breakfast with the kid downstairs."

Danny didn't argue. He didn't like the idea of having to be alone with Joe again, but he was clearly not welcome to hear whatever Luther and Jack were discussing. Danny prepared two bowls of oatmeal, grabbed some spoons, and excused himself from the room.

Soon, he reached the basement to find the boy still tied to the pole, but apparently sleeping. Setting the bowls on the ground, Danny knelt beside the bound figure.

"Breakfast time." He said and Joe startled awake. The brunette removed the tape from over the other boy's lips. "You don't like eggs, so do you like oatmeal?"

Joe nodded. "As long as it doesn't have bananas in it."

"You don't really seem to be in a position to be so picky." Danny said. He didn't exactly know how most people behaved in a kidnapping situation, but he was pretty sure that they didn't go complaining about the food they were given.

"Just never really cared for breakfast foods." The blond shrugged. "Except for pancakes; those are my favorite!"

"Probably won't ever get any of those." Danny admitted as he dipped a spoon into the oatmeal. "I doubt that Luther even knows how to make them. He's not much of a cook."

Danny raised the spoon to Joe's lips, but Joe didn't take it right away.

"Not gonna let me feed myself?" He asked.

Danny shook his head. "Not after that stunt you pulled last night."

Joe just scowled in response, but he opened his mouth and ate the spoonful of oatmeal. After swallowing, he wrinkled his nose and said, "Not the most flavorful oatmeal I've ever had."

"Like I said, Luther's not much of a cook." Danny repeated himself as he took a spoonful of his own oatmeal.

"Where _is_ the big guy, anyways?" Joe asked. "Didn't really expect to see you come back after yesterday's talk."

_Me neither,_ Danny wanted to say, but he didn't. "Luther's upstairs discussing some sort of business with a friend of ours."

"Without you?" The other boy prodded. "What kind of business are they discussing?"

Danny shrugged. "Didn't seen to want me around to hear about it."

"Seems suspicious." Joe said.

Danny could see that he was trying to get him to talk more, either to pry out information or get him to switch sides, but he didn't mind. Danny was drawn to this boy for reasons he could not explain. Something inside of him wished that they wouldn't have to part, but Danny knew better. Everything but this feeling he had said that they were enemies. But that didn't mean that they couldn't enjoy some conversation, especially when it related to the odd behavior of Danny's new roommate.

"I try not to ask questions." The brunette said. "Luther does plenty for me; it would be kind of silly of me to act out when he just wants to have one private conversation."

"But why should he be worried about you hearing it?" Joe questioned. "Surely it concerns you if he's talking with one of your pals. You're part of the group, you should know these things."

Danny thought for a moment. The boy wasn't wrong. If Danny and Jack were talking, it couldn't just be a social call; it must have something to do with the operation, an operation that he was a part of. He had the right to know!

"But they wouldn't make a point to exclude me if they didn't mind me hearing their conversation." Danny said, furrowing his brow. Why couldn't he hear it? What were they talking about?

"Maybe they're talking about _you_." Joe suggested, looking just as perplexed as Danny felt.

"Me?" Danny asked. "But why would they be talking about-"

He didn't finish the thought because the answer suddenly dawned on him. If they didn't want him listening and they were talking about him, then it could only mean they were discussing one thing: his roll with the group. Did they doubt his loyalty? Were they going to find a way get rid of him? Perhaps he had been acting too strange since he lost his memory. But he didn't know any other way to act! Would that be enough for them to remove him?

"You should go listen in." The blond boy said, at length. "If they are talking about you, it would be good to know what they're saying."

Danny had to agree. If they were planning to get rid of him, then he could find out and maybe even escape. If they weren't talking about him at all, he could put his mind at ease and all would be right - or as right as things _could_ be.

Danny set his bowl down and crept over to the stairs. He climbed the steps slowly in attempt to avoid making a sound. Upon reaching the door, the boy grasped the handle and turned it. He let the door open only a couple of inches - just enough to hear the voices from the kitchen.

"You're kidding me!" Came Luther's rough voice. "This entire time!"

"There's no doubt about it," Said Jack. "The kid tricked us all. He's a regular mole."

"Wouldn't call him regular. He sure did have us all fooled."

"Except me, of course." Jack said proudly. "I thought something was up with him pretty early on. Knocked him senseless in the warehouse hoping to scare him off."

"_You_ hit the kid?" Luther asked with as much shock as Danny felt. "Denis is gonna be pretty mad when he finds out you did it and didn't tell him."

"Not as mad as he's gonna be when he finds out that Danny is the son of a detective." Jack countered.

His words hit deep in Danny. The son of a _detective_? But hadn't Luther said that he was a foster kid?

"It just doesn't make sense, Jack." The big man said. "If the boy knew that he had been found out, why is he sticking around, faking this amnesia thing."

"That's where things get _real_ interesting." Jack said. "You see, I don't believe that he _is_ faking amnesia. I doubt you'd still have the blond kid if Danny knew that he was his brother."

Another jab to the heart. So the boy _hadn't_ been lying? They were _brothers_? Danny didn't know what to think anymore. Luther and Jack seemed to saying that he wasn't Danny Beckham, but weren't they the ones who told him he _was_ Danny Beckham to begin with?

"What do we do?" Luther asked. "Danny's sure to find out the truth with that other kid around."

There was a moment of silence as each man seemed to be thinking of a solution.

"I propose," Jack began at length. "That we get rid of the blond kid altogether. He seems to be causing more trouble than he's worth."

"But what about Hardy? We'd be getting rid of our leverage." Luther reasoned.

"Not entirely," Said Jack's voice with a sense of cunning. "We can keep Danny around. We tell Hardy that we have his oldest boy and continue about our work as normal. Danny doesn't know a thing, so we don't have to worry about our leverage getting away and alerting the cops."

"Sounds like a plan that Denis will like." Luther said, finishing off his statement with his smoker's laugh.

"I'll head over and take it up with him this afternoon." Jack said.

"When do you think we can execute this plan?"

The moment's silence rang in Danny's ears like a bomb before it explodes until, finally, Jack seemed to have his answer.

"With any luck, we'll begin by tonight."


	9. Chapter 9

Joe could clearly see the conflict in his brother's features when Frank descended the stairs. The brunette stared blankly at his feet before coming to a halt just a couple feet away from Joe.

"Find out anything interesting?" The blond inquired. He had been hoping that he'd be able to convince Frank of the truth if Frank heard something straight from the lips of these criminals he knew as friends.

Those deep brown eyes shot to Joe's and he could see then that Frank really_ had_ heard something. Even though the older boy had lost his memory, Joe could still read his features like someone would read a book. Frank was confused, lost, uncertain, torn between the two lives that called him to be a part of them. And that was only what his eyes said. The way Frank's brow creased, the way his lips pressed firmly together, the way his jaw tightened all told Joe of how unsettled his brother was and how frustrated and upset he was at being so helpless.

Joe didn't blame him one bit. The way Frank knew his past, as well as how he would know his future, were both at the mercy of those who tried to mold him like a piece of potter's clay. When he'd lost his memory, he'd lost his shape. He was no longer a solid and intricately designed piece of art, molded and baked by the experiences of his life and those he shared them with; he was a lump of insignificant clay that would bend to the touch of anyone who laid a hand on him.

Joe just wished that he could have been there to help Frank find the piece of art that he'd been before. But he'd have to settle with trying now. It wouldn't be easy. Too many people had already tried to mold the dark haired boy. Joe would have to find some way to undo the work they'd done and get Frank to looking like what he'd been before.

"Come on, Frank," Joe tried, inserting as much meaning and care into his words as possible. "You know you can talk with me about it."

Frank pinched his eyes shut and shook his head as if to clear it. "No," He said. "I can't."

"_Frank_-"

"_Stop_ calling me that!" Frank snapped, his eyes opening as his brown orbs locked onto Joe's blue ones. The brunette tried to add an intensity to his gaze, but his brother could see the lingering fear and the uncertainty that remained.

"I'm going to call you by your name." Joe argued, though his words were not harsh.

"My name's not Frank." The older boy said.

"Then what is it?"

Frank was silent. The conflict within bled onto his face, making clear his every thought. He looked so lost and confused, but what hurt Joe to see most was that Frank looked so _alone_. He fought this battle for himself against himself while others told him how to fight it. But nobody could really help him - not unless Frank let them. But he didn't even know who he should let in. He didn't realize that he had a brother who cared and would help him get past anything. He didn't understand that he was loved.

"I don't know." Frank said at last. And Joe could see that he was not lying. Frank was not exactly Daniel Beckham, but neither was he exactly Frank. He was somewhere in between.

Though he hated to see his brother struggle so, Joe couldn't help but feel satisfied that he'd helped lead Frank into taking the first step toward the path to himself.

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

Danny had spoken barely a word to Luther the whole rest of the afternoon. It hadn't escaped his attention that the man almost seemed to be_ avoiding_ him. Any time Danny entered the room, Luther would conveniently find another project to keep him busy that involved some other part of he house. Finally, when the boy couldn't take it anymore, he had gone to his room and occupied himself with his thoughts.

It was kind of funny to think about. Luther had never been a warm or charming person that would make good company, and he really didn't speak unless he needed to. Danny had never considered him to be good company, but, now that the big man was avoiding him altogether, it was a little sad and disheartening. Danny _missed_ having his company. He couldn't explain it. Perhaps it was because He had come to know Luther as the only person who had ever come close to being his friend, and now that they had lost that, the boy felt more alone than he ever had felt before.

_You don't have to be so alone, _An inner voice told him._ There's someone who will take you._

"No," Danny said to the voice in his head. "No, he won't. He's lying."

_You don't believe that, _Was the reply. _You know that he's telling the truth. You can see the care in his eyes._

"It doesn't matter." The boy shook his head. "There's nothing I can do about it. They're going to kill him tonight."

_It doesn't have to be like that_.

"Yes, it does!"

_You can change it._

"No, I can't!"

_Why not?_

Danny thought for a moment. He had never allowed himself to even consider helping this boy. He couldn't. He had to show complete loyalty if he wanted to live - oh, how he wanted to live. He was too afraid to die - afraid that he'd find no-one on the other side to greet him and afraid that he would be even more forgotten here with nobody to mourn him. And how could he trust that a loved one would one day follow him out of this life and find him? Maybe he would be alone forever.

"I'll be joining in that boy's fate if they catch me." Danny said at last, almost shivering at the thought.

_That's what you're afraid of? _The voice asked. _Dying?_

"Yes," The boy replied, honestly.

_There was a time when you would have given anything to follow that boy into death_._ Now here you are, running the other way when you could save him from that fate altogether._

Danny was startled. He'd guessed that this voice was just his conscience, arguing with him about his life choices, but it was starting to look like something more.

"I'm not running." Danny countered to this... _thing_ inside his head.

_Then you're standing there, _watching_ while he calls out for you, his_ brother, _to help him._

"Shut up!" Danny cried. "What do _you_ know? You're just a voice in my head!"

The voice did not reply and the boy was left with his last statement ringing in his ears. He wondered if his statement was even true. Was this just a voice, or was it something more? Was it a part of him that wanted him to do the right thing? Or was it the voice of the person he used to be?

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

Joe awoke when he felt himself jostled. Upon opening his eyes, he was startled to find McKenzie before him, apparently removing the strips of duct tape.

"Try anything funny and we'll have to do things the hard way." The man said. His tone was enough to convey to Joe how serious he was.

After all of the tape had been removed - Frank had neglected to replace the gag earlier that day - McKenzie grabbed the boy's t-shirt and pulled him to his feet. Joe stumbled as his legs locked beneath him and his muscles ached from being in one position for too long.

"On your feet, Boy." The big man ordered as he pulled his prisoner up straight, again. Joe tried, once more, to gain his footing. He succeeded, but was still rather unsteady.

While the blond was still focused on trying to keep his balance, he felt his wrist grabbed and his right arm was pulled behind him. Soon, both of his hands were, again, bound behind his back. But something was different. Joe could feel the rough bite of course rope, digging into his wrists. It was an unwelcome change from the duct tape. Tape didn't rub like rope did.

"Run out of tape?" Joe quipped, but it was also a legitimate question. He couldn't conjure up a reason why they would suddenly change bindings, but he also wouldn't be surprised of they really_ had_ run out of tape, considering how much they used on him.

"Just don't want the tape to unstick when it gets wet." Mckenzie said as he gave Joe a shove to the small of his back and led him up the stairs.

"Wet? Why would it get wet?"

The man just grunted in reply.

"What's going on?" Joe inquired upon reaching the top of the stairs. "Where are we going?"

"Just shut up, Kid." Mckenzie growled. "One more word out of you and I'll put the gag back."

Joe pressed his lips together and bit his tongue to keep from speaking any more. He knew he could annoy people by his many questions - especially when it came to his captors - but he just couldn't help his curiosity. This was especially true when Joe was little. His dad had told him that it was good to ask questions and, of course, the boy had taken every opportunity to do so. He'd asked questions until there was hardly a thing he did not know. Joe supposed it was a habit that he'd carried into his teenage years and would proceed to carry into his impending adulthood.

In the garage, Joe was led to the car where McKenzie opened the door to the back seat and shoved him in. Frank was already there, sitting in the back seat as well. In the passenger seat was one of the other men that Joe knew to be involved in the group.

"This was your idea, Jack," Mckenzie said to the dark haired man beside him as he slid into the driver's seat of the car. "Where do we want to do this at?"

The other man - Jack - replied. "I was thinking Barmet Bay."

"In Bayport?" The big man asked. "That's where this kid's family is. Won't they find him sooner of we do it there?"

Jack gave a sly grin that sent shivers down Joe's spine. "That's the whole point."

Mckenzie just shrugged and started the engine of his car. "Whatever you think is best." He said as he pulled out.

Joe leaned over to Frank and whispered to him in a low voice. "What's going on?" He asked, his inquisitive nature getting the better of him again.

Frank shot him a glance that was barely visible in the darkness of the night, but the streetlights they passed beneath shed just enough light upon his features. Frank looked saddened and afraid and he met Joe's gaze only for a moment before his eyes flitted away. He looked ashamed, and the expression on his face gave Joe the answer to his question.

They were going to kill him.

**Don't forget to favorite and follow!****This fic has been no easy task.**


	10. Chapter 10

That sinking feeling in Danny's stomach only grew as the drive went on. His anxiety peaked as the car rolled to a stop at the docks of Barmet Bay in a town called Bayport. Everything in him wanted to do something to save this boy, but he couldn't. It was too late now.

Luther opened the door to the back seat and produced another coil of rope which he proceeded to tie Joe's ankles with. A new duct tape gag was secured over the boy's mouth before the big man then pulled the him out of the car and slung him over his shoulder.

"Let's get a move on, boys." Luther said. "Need some lookouts to keep an eye on things while the deed is done."

Danny reluctantly obeyed and joined Jack in front of the car.

"This should only take a moment." Luther said as he turned to walk the few meters to the nearest dock. Danny stared after the receding form, his eyes locked onto the blue ones of the frightened boy whose grim looking fate was in the hands of the big man who carried him.

"Danny, what's wrong with you?" Came Jack's voice from somewhere, but Danny wasn't sure where. He was vaguely aware of somebody shaking his shoulders, but he was too focused on what he was seeing.

As Luther's boot thumped onto the first plank of the dock, Joe began to struggle. Danny watched, frozen. He didn't know what he felt. It was a feeling unlike any other. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't move or speak, he could only watch.

Luther tightened his hold on his captive and restrained his movements. They were quickly nearing the edge of the dock where the boy would be thrown into the bay. He threw his head back and forth and rubbed his gag against his shoulders in an apparent attempt to get it removed. His efforts were rewarded as the tape peeled away and dropped to the floor of the dock.

The desperation in Joe's eyes tugged at Danny's heart.

"_Frank!_" The boy cried at the top of his lungs. Something clicked inside Danny's mind. He had to do something! That cry had triggered some sort of protective instinct and, before he could stop himself, the brunette had launched his fist and made contact with Jack's jaw, sending the man to the floor, unconscious.

Without looking back and without a second thought, Danny was running out onto the dock. Before anything could be done to stop it, Luther cast Joe into the bay and stared into the water after him, unaware of the boy coming up behind him.

Danny leaped onto the large man's back and wrapped his arms around his neck. Luther growled as he took a few steps backwards and grabbed Danny's arms in attempt to remove them.

The man then fell backwards onto the dock, crushing the boy beneath his weight. Danny felt the breath knocked from his lungs and he instinctively loosened his grip. That was all Luther needed. He freed himself, turned, then pounced upon his attacker, placing his large hands around the boy's neck.

"Danny?" Luther asked when he finally registered who it was that had gotten the jump on him. "What's gotten into you, Boy?"

Danny couldn't answer because of the pressure on his throat, but he didn't even know what he'd say if he_ could_ speak. He didn't _know_ what he was doing!

"You shouldn't have done that, Kid." Luther growled as he tightened his grip. Danny could see darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision. It would only be moments before he would pass out. Then what would happen to him? He would most likely be killed!

Danny grasped blindly at the wood of the dock, searching for anything that he could use as a weapon. Finally, his fingers located what felt like a discarded glass bottle and he clasped it tightly in his right hand. As his vision was going black, Danny swung his arm as hard as he could, hoping to do some damage. It must have worked because the pressure on his throat subsided and he was released.

Danny inhaled the sweet air and sat up, preparing himself to face another of Luther's attacks, but it was unnecessary. The big man was unconscious just a foot away, the side of his bald head bleeding and he bottle shattered beside his body.

The boy didn't waste another moment. He picked himself off the floor and looked over the edge of the dock. Danny had hoped to be able to catch some sight of Joe, but all that he saw was a burst of bubbles, rising to the surface. Without even taking off his shoes, he dove into the frigid bay. His vision was foggy under the water, but he could make out the shape of a figure and the moonlight glinted off of blond hair.

Diving deeper, Danny reached out and found the cloth of Joe's shirt, pulled him closer, and grabbed him under the arms. The boy kicked his feet and struggled to get himself and his package back to the surface. He didn't think that he'd gone that deep, but now it seemed as though they would never reach the air - air that Danny was desperately needing by now.

Finally, Danny could feel the cold, welcome wind on his face. He looked from side to side until he located the dock just feet away. With minimal trouble, he managed to pull himself and an unconscious Joe up onto the wood planks. Pulling out his pocket-knife, Danny proceeded to cut through the bindings on the boy's wrists and ankles.

"Come on, Man." Danny said when he noticed that Joe was not breathing. The brunette placed his hands over Joe's chest and began performing CPR, a skill that he hadn't realized he had until now.

It took a few agonizing moments before the soaked blond began to cough and spit up water. Danny helped him into a seated position and patted the boy's back as he continued to gag.

"There you are." Danny found himself naturally soothing as Joe's coughing fit slowed and eventually stopped altogether.

Those blue eyes met Danny's brown once again, and all vulnerability was visible. The boy looked at him with a sense of relief and security. He looked _safe_.

"Frank," Joe gasped as he threw himself at Danny, wrapping his arms around his torso and hugging him close. Danny felt his breath leave him as thoughts and _memories? _flooded his mind.

...

_Frank pulled himself out of the hug and looked into the shining, blue eyes of his five-year-old brother._

_"It's okay, Joe." Came the brown haired boy's small voice that must have sounded big and strong to his little brother. "It was just a nightmare."_

_Joe nodded, his blond locks falling over his eyes. "I know. I'm just scared."_

_"They aren't real," Frank tried to sooth. "You don't have to be scared."_

_"I'm always scared when you're not here." Joe sounded so small and frightened. "That's when they come."_

_Frank wrapped his arm around the little boy. "Then they'll never come again, because I'll always be right here."_

_Joe's innocent eyes looked up at him without doubt. "But what if you're not?"_

_The brown haired boy smiled down as he touched a finger to his brother's chest. "Then I'll always be right _here_."_

...

_Frank let himself fall away from his brother's tight grasp and leaned back into the pillows of his hospital bed. "Easy there, Joe, I still want to breathe."_

_"__Sorry," The other boy apologised as he ran a hand through his blond locks. "You just really scared me when you fell and I couldn't wake you up."_

_"__I just fell out of a tree," The thirteen-year-old Frank Hardy chuckled. "It wasn't_ that_ serious_._"_

_Joe shrugged. "People have died from less."_

_Frank supposed he couldn't disagree. It was true, after all. But he still didn't like it when his brother worried for him._

_"__Takes more than that to off Frank Hardy!" The older boy quipped, using his brother's own catchphrase._

_Joe feigned displeasure, but held a smile in his eyes. "Hey, that's trademarked!"_

._.._

_This time, Frank did not pull away. He held his brother close and let him take as much time as he needed. He could feel the tears soaking into his dress shirt as Joe's body racked with sobs. __Tears stung at the older boy's eyes as well, but he wouldn't bother to hold them back. Iola deserved these tears._

_"Why, Frank?" Joe said in a quiet, quivering voice. "Why did it have to be her?"_

_Frank shook his head. "I don't know, Joe. There has to be some reason why."_

_"It can't be a good enough reason." The younger boy sniffled. "I was going to marry her, you know."_

_Frank nodded. He knew that Joe had planned on marrying Iola Morton from the moment they met as kids. The boy had always had his heart set on her, but now she was gone. She had been stolen away, tragically, never to fulfill the dreams she had made for herself. But she was the lucky one._

_Frank's heart ached for his little brother who, while his sweetheart was gone, would have to find a way to carry on, all the while being haunted by the fact that Iola's dreams were coming true, but she wouldn't be there to see it happen._

_Joe might marry someday, but he wouldn't marry her. He may hold a baby in his arms, but it wouldn't be theirs. He may build a life for himself, but it would only ever involve the memory of the girl who would always be Iola Morton._

_So Frank hugged his brother close and provided him with what little comfort he could. And the boy couldn't help but wonder how Joe would have gotten by without someone like an older brother to help him. Because what were they if they didn't have each other?_

...

"Oh, Joe," Frank gasped as he returned the hug, squeezing harder than his brother did. Tears broke through and streamed down his face, mingling with the water from the bay. "Joe, I'm so_ sorry_."

"You _remember_?" Joe asked as though he wasn't sure whether he could believe it.

"I remember," Frank smiled at being able to confirm it. It felt so_ good_ to remember. He knew where he belonged. He knew who he loved. He knew who he was. "I remember everything."


	11. Chapter 11

**So, this chapter is like the shortest in the history of chapters, but I ran out of pre-prepared chapters a couple of days ago and have been trying to keep up with my daily publishing. Today's chapter is short, but I'm hoping to make my next chapter longer. _Please_ don't give me hate for this. I will publish tomorrow!**

Frank helped his brother stand and grabbed him when he nearly toppled over.

"Maybe you should rest a little bit longer." The older boy suggested.

Joe shook his head as he stretched his legs a little. "Are you kidding me? Mom and dad have got to be worried sick about you!"

Frank cocked a brown eyebrow at his brother. "And not_ you_? You're the one that was actually kidnapped."

Joe wrinkled his nose. "Nah, this kind of thing happens to me all the time."

"Whatever," Frank rolled his eyes and ruffled the younger boy's wet, blond hair. "It doesn't make it any easier."

"_Fine_," The Joe said, fighting off his big brother. "Mom and dad will be glad to see us_ both._"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Growled an angry voice. The brothers' heads snapped up to see Jack, pistol aimed at Frank's chest. His eyes seethed with rage. "You shouldn't have done that, Danny."

Frank glared at the man, his defiant and brave demeanor defying the way he felt inside. "My name's not Danny."

Jack's black eyebrows raised. "Well, in that case, I'll have to kill you." He said, cocking the pistol.

Frank puffed out his chest and prepared himself for the shot, but it didn't come. Jack bit the inside of his lip and narrowed his eyes, then he let his weapon drift so that it was pointing at Joe's chest, instead.

"Or I'll just kill your brother." The man smiled in a way that sent shivers down both boys' spines.

"Don't you_ dare_ hurt him." Frank growled.

"It won't hurt that much." Jack reasoned in a casualty that made Frank sick to the stomach. "He'll most likely be dead before he hits the ground."

The brown haired boy clenched his jaw, just barely containing his rage.

The gun returned to Frank.

"Or, most likely, I'll just kill you both." Jack said, his hand gripping the handle of his gun even tighter.

Frank again waited for the shot to come, almost annoyed when it didn't.

Jack sneered at him. "But that would be too kind of me to let you go first."

To Frank's absolute horror, the pistol turned to his brother.

"No!" He cried as not one, but two shots rang out and two bodies fell.


	12. Chapter 12

"No!" Joe cried as he saw his brother fall before his eyes. He scrambled to catch him before he hit the docks and made it just in time. "Frank," The boy said as he lowered Frank gently the rest of the way to the floor. "You _idiot_. You should have just let it be_ me_!"

The brunette smiled back up at Joe, but his face quickly turned to a grimace as he clutched his shoulder where a dark red stain was growing larger. It was clear to the younger that his brother was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide his pain.

"Can't let you have_ all_ the fun." Frank joked. Joe didn't find it funny to get a taste of his own medicine. Wasn't _he_ the one that should be injured and making poor attempts at humor?

"You're such an_ idiot_, Frank!" Joe grumbled and he began applying pressure to the wound, causing his brother to grimace again.

"And I'm the smart one out of the two of us." Frank grinned, weakly.

"Just shut up," The blond said, then, realizing that he may have sounded too harsh, he attempted to alter his meaning. "You should save your breath."

"Where's Jack?" The older boy asked, twisting his head to the side to look around.

"Sounds like he's in quite a bit of pain." Joe said, not taking his eyes off of the task at hand. Jack had fallen just as Frank did and his moans could be heard clearly, but Joe had more important things to attend to.

"Who fired the second shot?" Frank proceeded to ask. Injured though he was, the boy still didn't miss a thing.

Joe just shrugged. "Beats me," He said. "Got to be one of the good guys, right?"

"Joe!" Cried a familiar voice that the blond thought he would never be so relieved to hear. "Frank!"

Joe looked up for the first time and met the eyes of the newcomer. "Chet, thank God." The boy said as his stout friend came to a kneel beside him. "I've never been so happy to see you."

"Chet," Frank smiled. "So glad you could make it."

Chet gave an awkward smile back to the boy on the ground before he turned to Joe with a look of concern etched upon his features. "He needs help fast! He's losing his mind!"

"Relax, Man," Joe said. "He gets weird when he's hurt, just ignore him. But he_ does _help." The blond then furrowed his eyebrows. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have your phone, would you?"

The other boy felt at his pockets for a few moments, but his hands returned empty. "Must've forgotten it in the excitement." Chet said, but he rose to his feet, nonetheless. "I think there's a payphone by the warehouse. I'll call for help!"

A few minutes later a panting Chet returned to his spot. "Help's on the way!"

Joe hardly payed attention to his friend. His mind was focused on his brother's deteriorating condition. Frank, though still conscious, was not quite as in tune with the world as Joe would have liked. He stared off at the stars and would answer his brother's questions only partially or with slurred pronunciation.

"'m good," Frank mumbled in response to a question. "Feel fine."

"I don't like it when you lie to me, Bro." Joe scolded, trying to keep Frank awake. "Now how bad does it hurt?"

"Hurts," The brown haired boy said. "Hurts like a gun shot."

Joe nodded his understanding, but flashed his brother a reassuring smile. "Those are the worst."

Frank just lazily nodded his head in reply.

"You guys are so screwed up." Chet said from the sidelines as he looked between the two brothers.

"Just a bit longer, Frank." Joe said as he heard the sound of sirens in the distance.

Just moments later the scene was covered with paramedics and police. Luther and an injured Jack were taken out of sight, but the youngest Hardy payed no attention. Chet's strong hold on his shoulder was the only thing keeping him from running back to his brother.

Frank was surrounded by people who were hustling about, trying to get him onto a stretcher and keep him stabilized at the same time. It was almost mesmerizing to watch. These men and women worked so in sync with each other that words were hardly needed to communicate and get the job done. Joe knew his brother was in good hands, but it didn't stop the anxiety he felt about not being able to be near him.

Soon, the paramedics had gotten Frank strapped into the stretcher and on his way to the awaiting ambulance. Joe followed, only to be stopped by one of the EMTs.

"Sorry, Son," Said the older man with a kind face. "We're going to need the room. I'm afraid you can't ride with him."

"But... what if he needs me?" Joe asked as he peeked around the man to get another look at his brother. Past all of the people working around him, the blond could see a tired looking Frank, staring at him through weary brown eyes.

"He'll be just fine," The EMT assured. His voice sounded so certain and it brought Joe a little bit of comfort. "You can trust him to us."

If Joe had any more argument left in him, it was soon forgotten, for, as he held his brother's gaze with his own worried one, Frank gave him an almost imperceptible wink as if to say, '_I'll be alright, little brother._'

Frank's own assurance was enough for the boy. He watched anxiously as that familiar figure disappeared behind the doors of the ambulance. The large vehicle then sped off onto the city streets. Joe could hear the sirens wailing long after he had lost sight of the locomotive that carried his brother away from him.

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

"Hey, Man," Chet said as he pulled out of the dock's parking lot and onto the road, heading in the direction of the hospital. "Frank's gonna be just fine. You'll see."

Joe just nodded as he stared out of the passenger window, watching all of the streetlights fly by as they drove past. He was sure that Chet was right - they had gotten help fast, after all - but he just couldn't help the anxiety he felt.

It would always be like this whenever Frank was injured, even if it wasn't serious. There was always that lingering thought of something going horribly wrong, though it wasn't very likely to actually happen.

"Say," Chet began, obviously looking to change the subject. "I didn't get to say this earlier, but I'm_ really_ glad to see you."

Joe looked away from the window to see his stout chum taking a deep, shaky breath. "I'm glad to see you too, Man."

Chet shook his head. "Not like I am to see you." He said. "I was_ terrified_ that we wouldn't find you after you disappeared when_ I_ was supposed to be helping you."

"Come on, Chet," Joe said, turning his full focus to his friend. "You seriously think I blame you for that?"

"No, but I blame myself." The other boy said, shamefully. "I shouldn't have been so stupid and lazy!"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just glad that he didn't catch you, too."

"But I could have_ helped_ you." Chet said. "And maybe you wouldn't have gotten kidnapped."

Joe shrugged. "Maybe it's for he best that I got kidnapped. We may not have gotten Frank back of I didn't."

The stout boy furrowed his brow and shot a quick glance at Joe. "What _happened_?"

"It's a long story." Joe replied, simply. "I'll tell you later. But right now, I want you to tell me how you came to be at the docks at such a convenient time, tonight."

Chet gave a small half-smile before divulging his story. "Just pure luck, really. After the guys and I heard that your dad wasn't allowed to go searching for you, we decided we might try. We've been meeting every night someplace else to compare notes. We were supposed to meet at Tony's boat tonight. I was the first to arrive, but before anybody else showed up, I heard you shout." The boy gave a little chuckle. "I guess I'll have a pretty good excuse for missing tonight's meeting with the guys."

"So, if it was you that shot Jack, then where'd you get the gun?" Joe inquired.

"I know where the Prito's keep one hidden on the boat." Chet explained. "Tony's dad insists that he keep a gun on his boat and in his car - you know, after the trouble he's gotten into while helping you guys out. I myself plan to get a concealed carry once I come of age. It might do _you_ some good too, you know."

Joe smiled at his friend's not-so-subtle hinting. "Never really saw myself the gun-carrying type."

Chet rolled his eyes. "Because that would make it too hard for the bad guys to kidnap you."

Joe feigned offense. "Are you implying that you don't believe in good, old-fashioned Hardy fist action?"

"I'm _saying_ that experience speaks louder than you do."

"That's a pretty bold statement."

Chet nodded. "I know." He grinned. "It's hard to believe that_ anything_ could be louder than you."


	13. Chapter 13

Joe returned from the front desk frustrated and annoyed, though he knew that he was being pretty irrational. The woman at the front had turned him away to what had become known to him as the 'wretched' waiting room, where he would be forced to sit and anxiously worry over his brother's state of health. Joe knew that the lady was only doing her job and that she wasn't_ allowed_ to let him in, but he had to be mad at somebody and she just seemed like the easiest target.

"Based on that sour look on your face," Chet began as Joe plopped down beside him in the waiting room. "I take it we're going to be sitting here for a while."

The other boy gave an exasperated sigh as he slumped down further in his chair. "Frank's in surgery. It could be_ hours_."

"But he's stable?"

Joe shrugged. "Stable enough for surgery. We'll know more once he gets out."

"Well," The stout boy grinned an assuring grin. "I say we sit back and relax till then. I'm confident that Frank will be just fine. He's had worse."

Joe nodded. It was true that both he and Frank had been through it a few times, but that didn't make it any easier when _it_ came back around. "Guess we don't have much of a choice, do we?"

"Why don't you call your parents and tell them what's going on?" Chet suggested after a few moments of silence. "They've got to be beside themselves with worry."

Joe just shook his head, his blond hair finally having dried enough to make some movement in the process. "Not yet," He said. "Then we'll have to tell them about Frank, and we're not even sure if he'll be okay."

"Come on, Man, they should know." The other boy prodded his friend.

"Not right_ now_. I'll call them once we hear back from the doctor."

Chet must have finally given in. He fell silent and stared off into the same blank wall that Joe's eyes were glued to. Both boys' minds were reeling with thoughts and recollections of the night they'd just survived. Hopefully it would just go on to be another story added to the memory books that the Hardy boys would one day tell their children and grandchildren. Hopefully this night would not become one of those few nights that still haunted Joe Hardy's dreams.

Apparently having gotten bored of all the staring and moping about, Chet rose from his seat and disappeared around the corner. Joe didn't have to wonder where his friend had gone, for he returned minutes later, carrying a bag of chips he had purchased from the hospital vending machine.

As he returned to his seat, the stout boy spoke, a few crumbs escaping his mouth as he did so. "You want some?" He asked, offering the bag to his blond friend.

"You're_ offering_ me chips?" Joe inquired with a suspicious look on his face. He remembered well what happened when he last tried to take some chips from his chum.

"Well," Chet shrugged. "Last time I kept them all to myself didn't turn out too well, so I've learned my lesson. Apparently people get kidnapped if you get greedy about food. You've ruined me for keeping food to myself."

Joe gave a small half-smile. "Somehow I think that statement won't be true for long." He said before his face fell, again. "But no thanks. I don't have much of an appetite."

"You should still eat, though." The other boy urged. "You look pretty pale. Mrs. Hardy isn't going to be happy when she sees you like this."

Joe rolled his eyes and pushed the bag of chips away. "Mom's not here right now. I can eat later."

Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, another familiar voice spoke.

"Please, ma'am, just let me in to see my son." Said the soft, quivering voice of one Laura Hardy. "He's been missing and one of the nurses called and said he was here."

Joe glanced over to see his parents at the front desk, speaking with the lady who had turned him away.

"I'm sorry," The woman said, practically repeating what she had told the teen, earlier. "Frank Hardy is in surgery right now. The doctor will come and alert you when he is out. Until then, you may have a seat in our waiting area."

Fenton stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak, but Joe interrupted as he rose from his seat. "Mom, Dad?"

His parents heads snapped in his direction when they heard his voice. The looks on their faces communicated amazement and disbelief. Laura's eyes filled with tears as she rushed forward and enveloped him in a tight hug.

"Oh, Joe," She gasped, squeezing tighter. Joe had to bite his tongue to keep from complaining about his bruised ribs. "I can't believe you're here! You're alright!"

"Of course I'm alright." Joe managed to say, though his voice was strained. "I'm always alright."

"It's got to be a miracle of some kind." Laura said, finally pulling out of the hug, but still holding her youngest son at arms length. She rested a warm hand on his cheek and smiled tenderly at him. "My sweet baby boy."

Joe blushed and opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when he felt his arm grabbed and he was pulled into another hug, this time into a much stronger, more firm embrace.

"I'm glad you're okay, Son." Joe could feel his father's chest vibrating as his low, rumbling voice spoke softly to him.

"Me too, Dad." Joe said, unsure of how else to react to his parents' unusually excessive display of emotions. When he was finally free to breathe, the boy looked cautiously between his mom and dad who still stood exceptionally close to him. "Did I really scare you guys_ that_ bad?"

Joe noticed his father's jaw tighten as he took a deep breath to begin talking. "We received a note a few hours ago that said you had been killed and Frank captured." The detective said, his look of concern deepening l as the words left his mouth. "They told us to expect to find your... _body_... within the next couple of days."

Joe's brow furrowed as his father's words registered with him. He was starting to feel bad about not giving them a call. It was hard to imagine how frightened they must have been upon hearing of the death of one son and the hospitalization of the other just hours later.

"Well," He said at last. "I'm alright. Frank saved me."

Laura's frown deepened as she took in her boy's appearance. "You don't_ look_ alright." She began. "You're awfully pale and your eyes are red, not to mention your clothes are damp. You must be freezing."

Before Joe could even make an attempt to deter her prying eyes, his mother had caught his wrist, holding it tight in her tiny hands. Her brow furrowed and her bright, blue eyes burned with anger as she thumbed gently at the rope wounds which had just begun to scab over.

"You should get these checked out." The woman said as she began to inspect his other wrist, as well. "They could get infected."

Joe pulled his hands away. "No way! They're_ fine_."

"_Joe_," Fenton said with an air of authority that immediately made Joe feel like a five-year-old boy again. "We don't want to take any unnecessary risks when it comes to your well-being."

Joe cast his eyes to the floor. There would be no use arguing with his dad using_ that_ tone. "Fine," He said. "But only a check up. I don't want them trying to keep me locked up in a room here."

The old detective nodded. "Only a check up _unless_ the doctor finds a serious issue."

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

Joe was allowed to slip into a new, and thankfully dry, shirt as Doctor Bates ushered his parents into the room. Laura took to standing next to her son as the doctor referred to his clipboard.

"Let me start with the lesser injuries." Doctor Bates said, placing his pen behind his ear. "Joseph has various bruises and abrasions across his body, but I have cleaned them up and found no area for concern. The injuries to his wrists and ankles were a little deeper, but infection has not set in and, since I cleaned an bandaged the wounds, I don't expect it to."

"Is that all?" Mr. Hardy asked when the doctor paused his speech.

Doctor Bates shook his head. "He has suffered severe bruising to his ribs and abdomen. I do not believe that any ribs were cracked, but Joseph will be in pain for a while. I'd like to keep him on antibiotics for a couple of days to ward off any cold that may have been picked up on his... _adventure _tonight. A cough would certainly not feel good with those bruises."

"So, is he free to go?" Joe's mother inquired after the question he had been wanting to ask, himself.

The doctor smiled. "For probably the first time since he was a little boy, I think I can confidently say 'yes'."

**Favorite? Follow? Review?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Another short one. Sorry for the late update. I've been_ very_ busy today and haven't found time to write until just now. I don't think I can absolutely promise a chapter for tomorrow, but I will try. I will definitely update soon, though. Please review!**

"Amnesia?" Mr. Hardy asked in shock. His dark eyes widened at the word. He supposed that it explained why his oldest son seemed to go AWOL, but it just seemed so farfetched.

Joe nodded. "He didn't recognize me. He didn't even know his own name."

Fenton took in the whole story with disbelief. It was so surreal that it was as if it came straight out of a movie. The detective had been thrilled to know that both of his sons were now in safe hands, but he hadn't realized just how close he'd come to losing them _both_.

It was difficult to choose which would have been worse: losing one of the boys tragically at this young age, or having one of the boys lose his memory and reject them altogether. At least if their son was dead, Laura and Fenton would be able to grieve and, someday, perhaps get by, but if Frank had never gained his memory, they would have longed for him and wept for him much longer - perhaps forever. They would never have been able to grieve or have closure. They would always be haunted by that lingering hope that he would come back one day, but they would always suffer a contradicting and ironic hopelessness by knowing that it may never actually happen. Would it be better to have to cope with the death of a son, or would it be better to be cursed with spending the rest of your life trying to get back a son that is lost to you?

Fenton glanced over at his wife and knew immediately that she was thinking the same thing. Her blond brows remained knit and her pink lips sat in a firm line. Laura's eyes were filled with fright as the thoughts of what could have happened seemed - to the detective at least - to be flashing over her features like a slideshow.

Wrapping an arm around his wife's small figure, Fenton gave a comforting squeeze. "It's okay, Honey." He soothed as much for himself as for her. "The boy's are home, now. None of those thoughts running through your head are going to happen."

Laura looked up into her husband's soft gaze, her blue eyes shining. "I know." She sniffed and wiped away some escaping tears. "I just can't help myself. I worry so much for you and the boys."

Joe's hand rested on his mother's and he flashed his big, bright grin that could light up the darkest room. "And we're thankful and _very_ proud of you, Mom."

Laura smiled wiped away more tears. She clutched her son's hand back and squeezed tight. "These ones are happy tears."

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

"Hardy?" Came the familiar voice of Doctor Bates. The family looked up from their place, but Chet had fallen asleep in his chair.

Fenton and Joe both rose quickly to their feet. "Frank," The older of the two began. "Is he alright?"

"I have not seen your boy myself yet, but Doctor Bivins gave me his report." Bates soft smile eased some of the tension in the room, but his words removed it completely. "The surgery couldn't have been better, considering the circumstances. The bullet entered the shoulder and avoided any major arteries. The most damage caused was in the muscle. Doctor Bivins and myself would recommend physical therapy to rebuild the injured muscles and we can give you a referral before Frank is discharged."

Laura, her hold on her husband's hand loosening a little, spoke. "So, he's going to be okay?"

Doctor Bates smiled reassuringly. "He's going to be just fine. We encountered no complications and he should be free to go once we replace the blood that he lost and monitor his response to our treatments. He may only have to be here for a day or two."

Fenton felt himself able to breathe.

"Can we see him?" Joe asked.

"I'm afraid," The doctor began. "That he's still in recovery. But I will come collect you when he has been moved to a room."

After a few encouraging words and gratitude were exchanged, Doctor Bates left. Without wasting another moment, Fenton began to collect his belongings.

"Where do you think you're going?" A flustered Laura asked.

"There's still criminals out there that need to be caught." He explained as he grabbed his keys and turned to his wife. "My family isn't safe until every single one of them is in jail."

Before the astonished woman could say anything in reply, Joe spoke excitedly. "They probably don't know that Luther and Jack were caught and that we escaped. They'd never see us coming!"

Joe picked up his bag of damp clothes and began to follow his dad.

"No, Joe," Fenton ordered, sternly. "You're staying here."

The detective watched as his youngest son's eyes burned with intensity. "No way! I wouldn't miss this for anything!"

"Only you _will_ be missing it. You're staying with your mother and Frank. I'll be back in a few hours."

The look in Joe's eyes did not fade and Fenton knew that the boy probably had this whole argument already planned out in his mind.

"You'll need my help if you're going to find the hideouts." Joe reasoned. "And if you're going to find the right people to arrest."

Fenton thought for a moment. He supposed that he hadn't really considered what his first move was actually going to be. He didn't have anywhere to start without his sons and he knew that his youngest would not volunteer information unless he was allowed to come along.

The detective heaved a sigh. There was just no winning against Joe. "Let's get in car."


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry for the late update. My nephew was born yesterday soooo... yeah.**

**Anyways, I know this chapter is fairly short, but I figured you'd take it over waiting another day. Review please! Follow please! Favorite please!**

It had taken longer than they would have liked, but after making it to Luther's house, Fenton and Joe were able to find names on multiple of the other suspects. One of the names stood out to the younger of the two.

"Charles Daboni," Joe said, pointing to the name. "I think he's the one that kidnapped me."

"We'll start there, then." His father decided as he picked up his cellphone. "I'm sure the local police will be able to provide us with a search on the name and they'll definitely want to be involved."

Joe inwardly groaned. He had always enjoyed it more when they could take on the criminals without police help - they got more action_ and_ more credit - but he knew that his dad was smart and would make the choice he saw as wisest.

Half an hour had the Hardys in a parking lot, shaking hands with a uniformed man beside his police cruiser.

"Desmond Murphy," The man said. "Chief of police. We've all heard a lot about you and your boys, Mr. Hardy. I'm awful ashamed that all of this happened right under my nose."

Fenton smiled and assured the man that they, in no way, blamed him. "Now, what are we looking at?"

Murphy reached a hand under his hat to scratch through his dark curls before resting both hands on his hips and heaving a sigh. "It's hard to say. Unfortunately none of us are familiar with these men or their hideouts, so we don't know quite what we're getting into. Your boy thinks he's been there before?"

Joe nodded. "This is the house that I was held captive in first." He said. "It sounded to me like the whole gang meets there most nights."

"That's means we'll have to be more careful."

The chief of police called over his squad of men and explained the situation. Joe recalled the layout as best he could and drew a pitiful, but acceptable depiction of the inside before Murphy came up with a plan. Everybody was given a job and a place to go.

"Mr. Hardy," The chief addressed the detective. "I appreciate you allowing me to take over, but I must insist that you remain outside the house as cover."

Fenton nodded his understanding. "I can respect that. I can only ask that you not let any of these men escape. They may resort to killing if they feel it's necessary."

"What about me, Dad?" Joe asked, upset about not having been given a job of his own.

The boy's father shook his head. "Sorry, Joe, I've come close to losing you enough times already. I've got a few new grey hairs because of you."

Joe had noticed that his dad did seem to be growing more grey, but he knew better than to say anything.

"_Dad_," The blond whined. "I want to help."

The detective's dark eyes grew stern - it reminded Joe a lot of his brother right now. "You can help_ me_ by staying in the car."

The boy clenched his teeth together, crossed his arms and cast his eyes to the dark pavement beneath his shoes. He knew his dad was only trying to protect him, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He'd survived these men before; he wasn't afraid of them. They had hurt him, but more importantly, they had hurt Frank. Joe wanted more than anything to pay them back for all they had done.

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

The squad - Hardys included - sat in anticipated silence as Chief Murphy and his men approached the house. Each man held his gun at the ready should something go wrong. Fenton felt none of the nervousness that he was sure plagued the other men at this moment; he only wished that it could be over so he didn't have to worry for his family's safety, and he dearly hoped things went well in the process and Joe would stay adequately protected in the car.

Murphy knocked on the door to the contemporary style home. Keeping his hand on his holstered gun, he waited for someone to answer, but a minute passed and nobody came. The chief tried again and received the same results.

Suddenly, the lights in the house went dark and the group was left with only the shine from the streetlights and their few flashlights to light their way.

From where he was posted, Fenton could see the dark silhouette of Murphy summon some of his men up to the door. Within moments the door was kicked in and the officers were flooding into the house. Those who waited outside could only imagine what was happening within those walls. It was comforting to hear no gunshots, but it still couldn't ease all of the men's fears.

Just minutes into the attack, two men rushed out of the house. The flashlights that shown on their faces revealed them to be anything but officers. One man - the one with light hair - trained a gun on them while the other man - black haired - made a run for it.

Some of the officers around Fenton made a move to chase him, but stopped at a shout from the suspect with the gun.

"Don't move!" The man cried. It was clear that he was nervous by the way his arms shook as he spoke. "I'll shoot!"

"Then I'll shoot _you_." Said Murphy who was standing just outside of the doorway to the house, training his own gun on the suspect who turned to face his new offender.

Fenton saw his chance. While everybody else seemed frozen to their place, the detective's highly developed instincts kicked in. He abandoned the safe coverage provided by an open car door and advanced upon the suspect. The man heard his footfalls too late to do anything. As the suspect tried to turn around, Fenton knocked the gun away and tackled him to the ground. Murphy appeared beside him and assisted in applying handcuffs.

"Did we get them all?" The detective asked as he pulled the suspect to his feet.

Murphy took the cuffed man by the arm and began escorting him to a police cruiser. "Only one man escaped, but we'll send officers after him immediately."

Fenton nodded. He knew that there was little else he could help with and he - and likely Joe - was eager to see how Frank was holding up after his surgery. It would probably be best for them to begin the trip back to the hospital.

Mr. Hardy opened the door to his car and slid into the driver's seat. "Time to go home, bud." He said, but the car felt eerily quiet. "Joe?"

To Fenton's horror, the passenger seat, as well as the rest of the car, was empty. Joe was nowhere to be seen and the detective was fairly certain on where his son had gone.


	16. Chapter 16

The crunching of leaves a short distance ahead told Joe that the man he was chasing was still running full speed through the neighborhood yards. The boy tried to push his legs faster, but he couldn't seem to catch up to the sounds that continued just ahead of him.

After they had run through what had to be about four or five front yards in the residential neighborhood, Joe halted. The footfalls of the man he'd been chasing had suddenly grown silent and Joe's eyes - eyes which had just started to become accustomed to the dark - failed to spot him up ahead.

A sudden snapping of a twig came from the backyard of the property the boy had come to a stop on, and he immediately set off in a jog to investigate. A small light mounted on the back siding of the house provided for a better view of the small stretch of grass within the fence-line.

Joe crept carefully along the side of the house until he reached the back corner. Preparing himself to peek around the edge, he braced his hand against the wall only for a different hand to shoot around the corner and grab his wrist. Before he even knew what had happened, Joe was thrown to the ground with a man on top of him and a hand secured itself over his mouth.

"You?" Asked a shocked Charles Daboni, his slick, black hair falling out of its combed back position. "You're supposed to be dead!"

Joe threw his head to the side to loosen Daboni's hold over his mouth. It worked and as soon as the hand slipped, the boy bit down hard, drawing a cry of pain from the man on top of him. While his attacker was distracted, Joe took his moment and threw Daboni off of him.

Rising to his feet, the blond wasted no time. He faced the dark haired man and readied his fists for a fight. Daboni shook his injured hand and smiled slyly at him as if he were enjoying this whole thing.

"You never fail to put up a good fight." The man said. He then reached behind his back and his hand returned holding a large and sharp looking knife. The moonlight glinted off of the shining metal of the blade.

Joe tried to mask the concern he felt at the appearance of a weapon. He narrowed his eyes and widened his stance, ready for the attack to come.

Daboni leaped forward and jabbed his knife in a precise and practiced blow that Joe just barely dodged. He hardly had time to regain his footing before he was forced to duck as the knife swung at his head. The battle continued much like this for what felt like forever. Joe just couldn't seem to get a blow on the guy. Daboni seemed tough and well trained in this type of combat; he would not be easy to beat.

The boy stepped to the side to dodge another attack. He was taken by surprise as his ankle was hooked by Daboni's boot and he was thrown off balance. Surely his attacker meant to knock him down completely, but Joe managed to keep to his feet. His stumble was not without consequences, however. The blond rose to his full height and gasped at the pain that erupted as the knife trailed a swift cut down the side of his face.

While he was yet recovering from the shock of his injury, a hand shoved at Joe's chest. He stumbled backwards a few steps until his back made contact with what felt to be a wooden fence. Before the boy could make another move, an arm slammed against his neck and he was pinned to the fence, staring into the intense eyes of Charles Daboni.

"That was quite fun, Joey." Daboni said with a hint of glee. "I never get the chance to practice against real people. I almost feel bad that I have to kill you now."

The dark haired man raised his weapon. Joe watched as the man huffed and shook his head, almost as though he were sad or disappointed.

"Goodbye, Joey."

Daboni's arm flew forward and Joe couldn't help closing his eyes. Shoving images of his family to the front of his mind, he waited for the pain to come and for his world to fade. The anticipated pain never came, though. When he opened his his eyes, the boy was relieved to see his would-be murderer's wrist caught in the tight, unrelenting hold of Fenton Hardy's strong hand. Daboni growled and tried to struggle away from the detective, but his attempts were pointless. Soon, Chief Murphy joined in the arrest and Daboni was quickly secured.

As the prisoner was being escorted away, Mr. Hardy turned to his impetuous, youngest child with a look of disapproval and he spoke with a stern voice. "I thought I told you to stay in the car."

Joe cast his eyes to the trampled grass beneath his feet. "Sorry, Dad," He said quietly. "I just... couldn't let him get away."

The detective sighed and shook his head. "Your mother hears nothing of this, okay? And we're talking on the way home."

Joe nodded his head and turned to walk back toward the direction of the car. The strong hand of his father rested on his shoulder and kept him on course until they reached their destination.

FJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJFJ

Frank tried to open his eyes, but immediately shut them as the rays of light attacked him. He felt himself groan, but he couldn't recall making the decision to.

"Frank?" Asked a smooth, relaxing voice that he was glad to say he recognized. _Mom._

"Open your eyes, Baby." Her sweet voice rang in Frank's ears. He tried to obey, opening his eyes a little more slowly this time. Lights jabbed at him, but he suffered through it.

Finally, the brightness began to fade and things came into focus. The first thing Frank could see clearly was a face that he knew and loved very much.

"Mom," He croaked as he smiled up at his mother. She smiled back and reached out to stroke his cheek.

Frank then took time to search the rest of the room. He knew this layout a little better than he cared to. _The hospital_. But one thing was different from all of the other times he'd been here.

Frank looked back up at his mother's tender features, a feeling of anxiety churning in his stomach. "Where's Joe?"


	17. Chapter 17

**I guess that this will probably be the last chapter. Everything is pretty much wrapped up by now. I really hope you guys enjoyed it!**

From right outside the hospital room door, Joe could hear his mother's calm yet concerned voice trying to sooth her oldest son. "It's okay, Frank." She said. "He's alright. I'm sure he's on his way here right now."

Taking that as his cue, the young Hardy opened the door and stepped in, immediately followed by his father. The sight that greeted their eyes was an exasperated Frank attempting to pick himself out of the hospital bed and a frustrated Laura standing and resting her hands firmly on the boy's arms to keep him in his place.

At the sound of the door falling shut, both mother and son looked up to see who entered.

"Joe!" A relieved Frank cried. His body visibly relaxed as he welcomed the sight of his brother safe and relatively uninjured.

Mrs. Hardy gave a sigh of relief and dropped back into her chair, clearly glad that she would not have to come up with some explanation for Joe's absence.

"Hey, man," The youngest of the Hardys greeted as he approached his brother's bedside and gave him a gentle hug. "Feeling better now?"

Frank's face contorted as he shifted his injured shoulder. "Still hurts, but not nearly as much as it did before."

"That's good," Joe grinned. "You just worry about healing up now. No more concerning yourself over all those criminals who did this to you."

"What did you do, Joe?" Frank asked, a serious look overtaking his features.

"Oh, nothing," The blond boy stared innocently at his brother. "It's just that Dad and I decided to go and take care of things while you were getting your beauty sleep."

"You _didn't_." The older boy's eyes widened in astonishment.

Joe nodded gleefully. "They're all rounded up. The case is closed."

"That's great, Joe!" Frank smiled, but it faded when he took in his brother's face - namely the piece of gauze that stretched up the side of his cheek. "But what happened to your face?"

Joe glanced over at his dad who winced in response. The boy smiled nervously at that '_I demand answers_' look on his mother's face. Turning back to Frank, Joe shrugged and said, "What do the details matter?"

The brunette settled for this answer, but have him a look that said '_we'll talk later_'.

"So," Joe said, quickly changing the subject. "When can we break you out of this joint?"

Frank shrugged and looked to his mother for an answer. Laura gave a soft, understanding smile to her dark haired son before meeting Joe's eyes.

"Doctor Bates expects him to be well enough to leave the hospital by tomorrow afternoon."

Joe grinned widely at his big brother. "I would have been out of here by morning at the latest."

Frank laughed and nodded his head. "Don't I know it. You probably wouldn't have even let them take you in here to begin with."

"What can I say?" The blond boy had a teasing glint in his blue eyes. "I've never been one to sit around and sleep with criminals on the loose."

"Joseph!" Came the scolding voice of the boys' mother. "Your brother was_ shot_."

"I know, Mom," Joe peered innocently at the unamused woman. "That's exactly why he needs a little laugh. He's been away from the 'Joe Hardy Charm' for too long; I'm sure he misses it."

Joe looked expectantly at his brother, urging him to affirm his words. It was clear to the younger boy that Frank was trying to hold back a burst of laughter at his little brother's antics.

"Yes, Mom," Frank said at length. "It's been_ way_ too long since I've had to endure Joe's needling. I never quite realized just how much I enjoyed it."

The boy's dark eyes met the light ones of his brother and Joe could see that Frank meant every one of the words that passed his lips.

Joe smiled. "And I never realized just how much I'd miss your sarcastic comments and bossy orders until I had to be the one telling_ you_ what to do. It's hard to be Frank."

"Bossy, huh?" Frank cocked an eyebrow. "I think you mean '_responsible_'."

The younger boy shrugged his shoulders. "Call it what you want. I just know that you're always telling me what to do."

"And you're always finding ways to twist my words and do what_ you_ want to do instead of following my orders." Frank countered.

"It always works out, though."

The brunette wasn't quite convinced yet. "It_ always_ gets you into trouble."

Now it was Joe's turn to cock an eyebrow. "I seem to recall that it was_ you_ that got into trouble this time."

The older boy scowled in distaste. "_First_." He said. "But as soon as you saw me getting into to trouble, you just_ had_ to follow."

"What can I say?" Joe flashed his signature grin. "I just love the attention."

Frank opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by the deep voice of Fenton Hardy. "Boys," He said. "Can't we just agree that you are_ both_ trouble magnets."

"And that it would be much appreciated if you would take into consideration your mother's poor heart before going off with some criminals." Laura added onto her husband's statement.

The brothers met each other's eyes, both struggling to hold in their laughter.

"Sure thing, Mom," Joe said. "Next time I'm tied up and surrounded by bad guys, I'll remind them that I've got a curfew and I don't like to miss supper."

The woman rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same. It was no secret that, though she pretended to be annoyed by some of her boys' poor jokes, she really did love to see them smile and laugh at what they considered to be clever humor.

Frank and Joe Hardy were quite a spectacle. Apart, they often did seem like normal, goofy boys, but put them together and they would be the center of the party and the light of the room. The way they connected and thrived on each other's energy was a rare sight to see. Though so different in personality and appearance, the boys could often read each other's minds and speak with only a look.

Due to the boy's interest in sleuthing and the dangers they encountered, the idea came up fairly often that one brother might one day be left without the other. It was a real possibility, but it also seemed impossible. There would never be just losing _one_ of the Hardy Boys. If one lost the other then the remaining boy would be just as lost to the world. No matter how they needled, teased, and argued with each other, the truth was that they really did need one another. They were tightly knit together and would unravel if one thread were torn loose.

Luckily, Frank and Joe's threads would not be so easily broken. Each new threat they faced only went to strengthen them further, and as long as they continued to work together, there wasn't much they couldn't handle. They might face more bad guys, more kidnappings, more bullet wounds, and more hospital stays, but at the end of the day, neither brother could wish for it to be any other way.

Frank gave a grin as he broke the silence. "I guess it all comes with being a Hardy."

The End

**Well, that's about it, I suppose. Let me know what you guys think in the comments. Maybe not as well written as my last fic, but I was rushing through this one a bit faster and was forcing myself to write when I was unmotivated. I hope you guys enjoyed it though. _Please_ do leave a review and, if you haven't already, _please_ favorite and/or follow! I love the support you give! **

**As of right now, my future works are undetermined and uncertain. This has been one of my favorite fandoms to write for so hopefully my work here is not yet complete. I will warn you guys that I do have a habit of jumping from obsession to obsession and my fics coincide with and are testament to that. I am faithful, however, when I begin writing. I will always finish my fics.**

**Thank you guys_ so_ much for your support! You've been the greatest and I love you guys! Can't wait for the next adventure whatever it is, whoever it's with, and wherever it takes me. I certainly hope my time with you is not yet over.**

**Keep ****finding inspiration -TheRavenAndBear**


End file.
